


The Turn of the Dynasty

by Nravetasse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 96,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25590874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nravetasse/pseuds/Nravetasse
Summary: Prince Rhaegar Targaryen is leading the realm into violence and unrest, that much was obvious. But Aerion's place has always been to serve and to obey, not to question."The realm still remembers the madness that overtook your great-grandfather." His father had explained, "And so, we cannot let the Crown doubt our loyalty, for we will be prosecuted with fire and blood."***AU from before Robert's Rebellion with House Targaryen OCs.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. The Expeditioner's Return

**Author’s Note:**

Welcome to the story! I have been thinking about this story for a while, and I am excited to share what I have so far! I am aiming to update twice every week for summer 2020 and I might have to slow down to once a week (or longer) in the fall. **_But I intend to finish this story, however long it takes._**

That being said, this story is AU from before Robert’s Rebellion. I will be introducing many OCs, especially in the first few chapters and explaining a lot of context. Please bear with me and get a good grasp of how the OCs fit in – you will be terribly lost without the information.

If AU and OCs aren’t your thing, this story might not be for you. I am also NOT GRRM. I cannot even hope to be as good as him. I appreciate your patience and understanding if there are errors or issues of plot in the story – though I try to address every detail.

I do hope you enjoy the read! 

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**Chapter 1: The Expeditioner’s Return**

**_Stonedance, Crownlands, 281 AC_ **

The view out to the Narrow Sea from the Lord’s Chamber at Stonedance is splendid as always. Under the moonlight, the water is calm, and the waves are gently creeping towards the shore. The torches on passing boats and caravels help light up pockets of the sea, while the velvet darkness engulfs everywhere else for as far as one can see. With the windows half-open, Aerion can feel the stiff sea breeze tossing his shoulder-length hair and a smell of light saltiness in his nose. He stared out to the Narrow Sea in apprehension as he slowly tapped on the window frame with his finger.

An uneasy feeling had been bothering him for a few days, and he could not shake off the feeling even when he double and triple-checked everything around his castle. He discussed the plans to travel to Harrenhal with Maester Kelhmon twice, heard updates about the King’s status from contacts in King’s Landing, and even sent riders to House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, House Rambton on the Hook and along the Wendwater to check for any signs of trouble.

To Aerion’s disappointment, his bannermen assured his riders that things are going well, and even the bandit groups who liked to waylay traders and smallfolk along the Kingsroad have not been sighted recently. Aerion briefly entertained the idea that the Kingswood Brotherhood has re-assembled and was scheming for another woodsfolk rebellion, but as a commander within Ser Arthur Dayne’s campaign to uproot the outlaw organization, Aerion is fairly certain that that particular threat was no longer a worry. After all, the months-long campaign and its complete victory had earned him his knighthood just over a year ago. He had led the final ambush deep within the untamed forest to drive the last factions of the Brotherhood towards Ser Arthur’s main forces. He also slew one of the most important rebel leaders with his longsword and killed another fleeing marauder chief with his bow and arrow.

But what else could possibly go wrong? He thought about his little brother Baelor, but the boy of eight years was a happy and tireless ball of energy. Apart from his lessons with the Maester, Baelor spent half of his time practicing dueling in the training yard, and another half of his time exploring the woods and hills of Massey’s Hook with his friends and armed guards of Stonedance.

Aerion turned away from the window and stepped towards his roundtable by the corner of his chambers. He was lost in his thoughts when he reached for the flask of Arbor gold and poured himself a glass. As he lifted the glass to his mouth, loud and panicked rapping on his chamber doors startled him and he spilled a few drops of the dark purple liquid on his sleeve. He groaned and set his glass not-too-gently back on the table, “Come in,” he answered.

Aerion frowned as Ser Bryce Layn, his castellan, and Maester Kelhmon entered his chambers, both trying to catch their breath from running up to the top floor of Stonedance’s master tower. Aerion was about to ask what happened when Ser Bryce spoke up, wiping away at his forehead. “My lord, it’s the docks. Two Summer Isles sellsail boats just arrived below the castle. They say that they were promised payment from the Lord of Stonedance if they deliver the two passengers and their belongings. The mercenary captain won’t let our men see who the passengers are before getting their payment though, Xorru went down to talk to them.”

“Summer Isles sellsails?” Aerion tried to think about any recent dealings with the Summer Isles and could not come up with anything relevant. He thought of broader trade missions that he had sponsored to Essos but the last group was heading for Braavos, nowhere near The Stepstones or the Summer Sea.

Maester Kelhmon then spoke up, “My lord, it is best if you went to see them yourself… it might have something to do with your lord father.”

Maester Kelhmon was a thin and frail man in his late fifties. He had watched both the last Lord of Stonedance and the current lord grow up. He had sailed directly to Stonedance after taking his vows at the Citadel and has dedicated his life to serving the holding and house at Stonedance. When the castle’s officials and servants came and went, Maester Kelhmon has been a steady presence that brought calm and sound judgment.

Seeing the solemnness in Maester Kelhmon’s eyes, Aerion nodded. “Ser Bryce, find a sack of Gold Dragons from my study or the stores and meet us at the docks.” Aerion walked out of the chamber with Maester Kelhmon to make their way down the keep, while Ser Bryce turned left around the hall to carry out his lord’s command.

The massive wooden lift from the castle grounds down to the cave by the docks is dark and smoky as any other night. Torchlight lined the descent, but poor ventilation in the chute allowed the build-up of dust and fumes, clouding Aerion’s eyes from time to time. Teams of men worked at the pulleys that dragged the lift up and down with heavy, iron chains. The lift riders stood in the middle of a wooden pen enclosed by steel fences to protect them from falling. The lift has been indispensable to the castle on the cliff, serving as the most important way of transport for people and goods in and out of Stonedance.

As soon as Aerion stepped out of the cave, he spotted the circle of guards by two small-sized caravels in the nearest slips. Several guard towers stood on the narrow strip of the beach between the lift cave and the docks, and campfires lit the way for Aerion as he approached the small gathering.

Xorru, the Master-at-Arms at Stonedance, turned around just at the right time to see his lord. Xorru is a tall and broad-shouldered man with greys in his hair and beard. He had been an exile of the Summer Isles and probably volunteered to negotiate with the sellsails since he was more familiar with the language and practices. He gave a small smile, “My lord, this group was hired near Lys by the two men on board. The sellsails don’t learn the names of their clients, and only know that they were to deliver the men and their locked chest to Stonedance, with the utmost discretion.”

“The men inside were severely injured and have passed out two days into the journey, the mercenary tried to keep their condition stable, but they won’t wake up. They owe the captain some eighty Gold Dragons.” Xorru then turned to the captain, who is a short but sturdy man with a nasty scar across his right cheek. Xorru added more instructions in the words of the Summer Isles.

Standing on the beach, the captain nodded at Xorru and pulled a folded piece from his pocket and held it out to Aerion. Taking the piece over, Aerion felt the cloth to be silky but ripped and torn. He unfolded the piece under the torchlight of a guard and quietly gasped. It was an incomplete piece of a banner, but the sewn articles were clear, “three silver fish on blue, with blue frets on a white field… for House Bywater.”

Catching Xorru’s matching eyes of shock, Aerion cleared his throat and pocketed the piece of cloth. He gestured towards Ser Bryce, who had silently joined the group from his errand to pay the sellsail captain. “I want my own men to board the caravel, so the passengers are carried off carefully. You will also show them where the passengers’ belongings are and not miss any items, big or small. Do not breathe a word of this trip to anyone.” Aerion made sure to lock eyes with the captain and give a stern look in warning.

The captain nodded enthusiastically and hugged over the handsome sack of Gold Dragons from Ser Bryce with an eager smile. He half-turned and barked at his men to step aside and aid the Stonedance guards. He slightly bowed to Aerion and spoke in a thick foreign accent, “we don’t ask questions, so we have nothing to tell, my lord. We know the ways of our trade.”

After bidding the sellsails away from the docks, Aerion was riding up the lift with a concerned Maester Kelhmon and two stretchers carried by four guards. A heavy ebony chest was also in the corner of the lift, with one guard on each side to lift the dusty and worn chest. The two passengers that the Lord of Stonedance just received were wrapped in thick quilts as they laid on stretchers with their eyes tightly closed. Their faces are pale and sweaty from fever. The younger man of the two had tanned skin and thick brown hair and eyebrows, probably a lad from the Eastern continent, while his companion had paler skin and typical Westerosi features, which means the older fellow was most likely the owner of the House Bywater banner in Aerion’s pocket.

Maester Kelhmon was performing basic examinations as the lift slowly inched up. The Maester was muttering to himself and shaking his head from time to time upon discovering more and more injuries. “Tell the maids to draw ice baths for both of them and prepare clean towels, bandages, bruise paste, and a vial of the milk of the poppy,” he instructed the guards.

“My lord, where should we house these guests?” the lift was pulling to a gentle stop, and the guards waiting on the castle grounds hurried over to open the lift’s steel fences. They stepped aside to make way for the riders to exit.

“The guest wing of the master tower,” Aerion blinked back from his musing and answered as he patted down his robes for dust. “Bring Maester Kelhmon whatever he needs and take the chest to the guest wing as well.”

“And tell Xorru to wait for me in my study,” Aerion wanted to make sure that the passengers will survive before delving into the details of his father’s expeditions to Essos, of which Xorru certainly understands better than anyone else at Stonedance.

Aerion followed the party to the guest wing and watched Maester Kelhmon arrange for the injured to be placed on beds side-by-side. Most of the furniture in the guest chamber was being removed and the large reading table was dragged to the center of the room to hold medical supplies and wooden basins of water. Four of the six guards took their leave after the heavy lifting was done, with several maids replacing them to aid the Maester.

Aerion knew the basics of treating cuts and bruises from training and fighting, but as the maids unwrapped the dirty quilts and tattered clothes from the men’s bodies, Aerion knew that he could not hope to help Maester Kelhmon. Angry gashes covered the older, probably House Bywater man’s chest, arms, and legs. Patches of skin were swollen with abscess bursting of pus. His right hand and half of his arm were covered in charcoal black burns, the dying flesh giving off a strong stench mixed with sweat and blood. The man’s left kneecap also looked severely disfigured though the injury looked old. He probably had a bad limp for a long time before any of his recent injuries.

Looking at the younger man on the other bed, Aerion was relieved to see that his injuries looked better. They were still nasty and severe, but at least they looked treatable and the youngster would, with proper care, recover.

“My lord, they will not wake for a few days. They have a running fever and I will give them the milk of the poppy to keep them stable until the fevers subside.” Maester Kelhmon grabbed the vial for the milk of the poppy and a bowl of water and spoon. He paused to look at Aerion, “I will be here tending to them, and I will let you know of any changes.”

Aerion slowly let out a breath and nodded to his mentor and Maester. “Take whatever you need and call for more maids or guards if you need help. Send a word of their conditions in the morning.” Aerion glanced one last time at the injured men, where maids hovered around them to wipe clean their gashes and wounds, before turning and making his way to the Lord’s study.

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Fifty years ago, in the days of King Maekar I, Prince Aerion Targaryen or Aerion Brightflame had been a prominent member of the royal family. Prince Aerion had served the dynasty well, fighting valiantly in the Third Blackfyre Rebellion and trying tirelessly to revive dragons for the realm. At the death of King Maekar I, Prince Aerion’s only son, Maegor, even had a merited claim to the Iron Throne. Until, of course, the Great Council of 233 AC determined that the Crown would pass to a younger adult son of King Maekar I, instead of a babe from an elder son’s line - that babe being Maegor. From then on, the house of Prince Aerion and his son Meagor Targaryen became a minor branch of the royal family, passing from Maegor to Daeron, and then to the current Lord of Stonedance, Aerion Targaryen, the late Prince’s great-grandson and namesake.

Aerion was just eight years of age when his grandfather Maegor passed away. But he still had his grandfather’s teachings fresh in his memory. Lord Meagor would repeatedly warn Aerion of how to conduct himself at court. Maegor believed that keeping a low profile and being a loyal subordinate to the Crown is the best survival strategy for a minor branch of the Targaryen royal family.

Both Lord Maegor and his son, Lord Daeron, were convinced that being uninterested and uninvolved in power is the way to keep their family safe. “People still remember the madness that overtook Prince Aerion,” Lord Daeron had explained to a young Aerion, “Nobles and smallfolk alike look to us in slight and in suspicion. We cannot let the King and his advisors doubt us, for we carry the natural sin of being Prince Aerion the Monstrous’ heirs. We are also a threat to the monarch, being the only claimants to the Crown after the current royal family since King Maekar I, at least the only claimant through the male line of succession.”

“But we need not care about people’s whispers. Play their underestimation of you to your advantage.” Lord Daeron had held determination in his eyes when he instructed his eldest son and heir, Aerion Targaryen, “We will be the survivors of the game of thrones and one day, it will be our chance to show the realm our strength and capability.”

After being bypassed for the throne, Maegor never complained or showed any disloyalty to the Crown. Instead, he fought bravely during the War of the Ninepenny Kings and always obediently followed his older cousin, the future King Jaehaerys II. Thus, the years of King Aegon V and King Jaehaerys II’s rule were kind to Lord Maegor Targaryen and his family – which could not be said for the recent years of King Aerys II’s reign.

With Maegor’s contributions to the realm, the Targaryen lord would be awarded the castle of Stonedance, which had been the seat of House Massey for thousands of years until the Massey family went extinct after a sailing accident. Maegor built his household – now commonly called the House Targaryen of Stonedance, at the modest but heavily fortified castle of Stonedance. Additionally, staying true to his strategy of political indifference, Maegor went on to spend most of his adult life in Essos for travel and exploration with his Tolosi wife, returning to Westeros mostly for royal tourneys, marriages, and deaths.

Lord Maegor’s only son and heir, Daeron Targaryen, loved traveling abroad even more than his father. Daeron grew up and trained in the Free Cities, and only returned to Westeros for the coronation of King Aerys II and his wedding to Aerion and Balor’s mother, the Lady Jeyne Swann of Stonehelm. Daeron left again for the East shortly after Aerion’s second name day and returned five years later gravely injured with less than a tenth of his guards who had varying degrees of injuries as well.

At his return, Daeron was only three and twenty and was going to be bed-ridden for life if not quickly dead. He was in a coma after his return for almost four moons and woke up weak and confused. Upon witnessing his son’s desperate condition, Lord Maegor was heartbroken and passed soon after with grief and worry for the future of his house.

Aerion would want to tell his grandfather that not all hope was lost. Daeron recovered from his state of confusion and recovered enough physically that he could manage short walks within the castle at his best. Lord Daeron spent most of his time mentoring his son and heir, Aerion, and explaining the complex balance of power around Stonedance, involving major Crownlands and Stormlands Houses. For someone who spent most of his time away, Lord Daeron was surprisingly well-informed about the latest developments in Westerosi politics.

In the three years with his father close by, Aerion learned about his family’s history, the network of friends and allies of his grandfather and father, and even welcomed a baby brother, Baelor, born nine years after him. Lord Daeron’s time would turn out to be limited, as a fever brought back ailments in his lungs and heart. Aerion’s father would pass at the age of six and twenty and Aerion would assume the Lordship of Stonedance at just ten years of age.

Now Lord Aerion Targaryen of Stonedance sat across from Xorru, one of his father’s companions when his father sailed up to Stonedance, gravely injured, all those years ago. Xorru shifted in his seat and scratched his temple.

“Lord Daeron had told us that Wilfred would return one day… we didn’t believe him, because there was no way to survive if Wilfred went back **_there_** ,” Aerion knew that Xorru was talking about what happened to Daeron’s party before their escape from a rivalry ambush – an ambush so devasting that Daeron had to sail home in tatters.

“Where did you leave Wilfred Bywater?” For all these years, neither his lord father nor his men spoke of where they stayed or where they have been in their journey East. It was said that Daeron brought his most loyal men and held them to an oath of silence. The name Wilfred Bywater clicked in Aerion’s memories too. Wilfed was not only a vassal knight but his father’s childhood best friend, the young knight from House Bywater sailed East with Lord Daeron as a personal guard.

Xorru broke the eye contact and hesitated. He took a deep breath and focused upon the tall young lord in front of him. Aerion’s face was sculptured and handsome, with a touch of his mother’s House Swann cheekbones. His golden-silver hair swayed against his shoulders as Aerion leaned back in his chair. At seven and ten, he looked regal and warm when he held conversation, Xorru decided.

Xorru eventually agreed that Aerion had a right to know, “At first it was Volantis, Astapor, around the Gulf of Grief, and Tolos. But after two or three years, it was obvious that your father had a specific destination in mind.” Xorru stared into Aerion’s deep-violet eyes, “the smoking sea and ultimately … Valyria.”

Aerion’s eyes slightly widened at the mention of one of the most dangerous places in the known world. Exploration of Valyria was punishable by death if one was lucky enough to survive the journey. “You can’t be telling me that you all explored Valyria and came back alive?” Aerion snorted humourlessly.

Xorru shook his head, “no, we explored the outskirts of the smoking sea, and never dared to go near the peninsula. But that’s the main group… your father, Wilfred, and a cousin from your grandmother’s Tolos kin did go further. They were gone for longer than a fortnight. I don’t know how deep into the ruins they managed, but they did come back to our island base.”

Aerion leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, “Were they injured? Did they find anything?”

“They had some minor injuries against some stone men, but luckily they were not infected. Your lord father used a longsword and pushed the corpses into the smoking sea, before throwing away the blade itself.”

Before Aerion could ask a follow-up, Xorru continued, “your father planned a mission to go back to wherever they went and was directing the group to organize into smaller units. But as we were packing, an old rival from Astapor sailed up to our small island in the dead of night and ambushed us, outnumbering us four to one. Half of our men died in the attack, and another half of the survivors could not make it to our galleys, since the savages burned two of our three galleys.”

“We were escaping to Volantis when more men died from their injuries, including your Tolosi cousin. Your father was barely conscious but seemed determined about something. He used all his energy to talk to Wilfred. By the time we secured sellsails to take us home, your father was in his coma. Wilfred made sure we were ready to leave before declaring that he’s on your father’s orders and will not be returning with the group.”

Aerion pulled the tattered piece of the Bywater banner from his pocket and stretched it out carefully on the table. Silver threads around each of the three fishes shined in the candlelight.

“We tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t budge. And that was the last time I’ve seen him, a full ten years ago, until tonight of course.” Xorru sighed deeply and held sadness in his eyes.

“Are you certain that the passenger tonight is Wilfred Bywater?” Aerion asked as he rubbed the banner with his thumb. Aerion could remember the times when his lord father mentioned the Bywater knight, Lord Daeron seemed to miss his friend and to have a lot of fondness for Wilfred Bywater.

“I am.” Xorru straightened in his chair and said in a serious tone, “he looks like Wilfred, just a bit aged. He also has his birthmark – two small moles on his right earlobe.”

“A brave and loyal man.” Aerion nodded and exhaled deeply. He rubbed his temples. “Do you recognize the younger companion?”

“No.” Xorru frowned, “he looks like he’s from the Free Cities though, maybe Wilfred took him on at one point or another.”

“We’ll know more when he wakes up – Maester Kelhmon is doing everything he can.” Aerion was eager to converse with the one witness of his father’s Old Valyria expeditions and ask about what he has been working on for the last ten years, but he also worried for the knight’s condition. “If the Gods are good, we will have him back.”

Aerion looked to Xorru’s worried and tired face and pulled himself from the chair. “Go rest, Xorru. Ser Wilfred is safe in the castle, and we will be there when he wakes up.”

As Aerion returned to his chambers and changed to a comfortable nightgown, he couldn’t help but wonder what the arrival of the long-time missing knight would bring. His father never mentioned Wilfred’s mission or told him to expect the knight’s return, but Xorru and the last of his expedition men had been aware of his potential re-appearance.

Aerion stood by the same window that he was looking out from earlier in the night and sighed. His father had passed too young, and he himself had been too young to hold serious conversation – especially about something important enough to justify venturing into the ruins of Valyria. Well, Aerion assumed it was important anyway, why use your life and your best men to do something inconsequential?

The Narrow Sea is still peaceful and there are fewer ships passing by since the hour was very late. More stars became visible and are blinking down at Aerion, completing a serene and breathtaking view. Aerion hoped that Wilfred Bywater would pull through, and finally bring him some answers to quell the agitation in his stomach.


	2. Words for the Past and the Future

**Author’s Note:**

I make a _**very important assumption** _in this chapter, borrowed from the GoT TV series. It is the fact that Jorah and Tyrion sailed through the Smoking Sea of Old Valyria and survived. I know that GRRM had made it clear that the ruins of Valyria is very dangerous and no one (probably) has made it out alive, but I thought the TV show’s adaptation would make the story more interesting.

Note: I also made Balerion’s cave (which is not specified in ASOIAF) to be near the ruined city of Oros. It is not at the heart of the Valyria ruins and is rumoured to be occupied by stonemen and outlaws – so it is relatively safe and reasonable for exploration.

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Words for the Past and the Future**

**_Stonedance, Crownlands, 281 AC_ **

Four days have come and passed since the arrival of Ser Wilfred and his companion. The older knight is still hopelessly unconscious and running a high fever. Though, the younger man – a boy actually, since he looked no more than three and ten after the maids bathed him – is slowly recovering. He had woken up the previous afternoon but drifted in and out of sleep. Maester Kelhmon suspects that the boy had suffered a concussion since there was a large purple bruise on the back of his head.

Aerion tries not to worry too much about their conditions and about whatever answers the pair may or may not bring to him. He busied himself with replying to letters from Lord Varys and Ser Jason Hyde, a friend and knight who serves the High Septon. The letters from King’s Landing are always brief and vague, but Aerion knew how to interpret them for information regarding the King and important figures at court. It seems like the court has been busy preparing for the royal tour to Harrenhal and not up to much else.

He sealed his finished letters with the Targaryen three-headed dragon. On the dark maroon wax, one could not differentiate the Stonedance branch’s sigil against the main Targaryen branch of King’s Landing. However, the descendants of Prince Aerion Targaryen actually adopted the Prince’s personal banner, in which the three-headed dragon are coloured yellow, orange, and red, and breathe golden flames instead of white flames.

Since the letters were somewhat sensitive and needed to clearly represent Stonedance, Aerion took a fine paintbrush and traced an arc by the dragon heads with golden paint, as his grandfather and father before him used to do.

With light footsteps, a maid appeared outside the open doors of the Lord’s study and bowed to Aerion, “My lord, Lord Baelor is already in the Dining Hall.”

Aerion stretched out his hands after writing and grabbed the two letters. “See them delivered to the Maester to be sent out.”

“Aye, my lord.” The maid accepted the letters from Aerion’s outstretched hand and took her leave. Aerion followed behind to make his way down to the small dining hall of the master tower.

The medium-sized private dining hall is used to host family and close friends, and not at all luxurious as the main dining hall that was in another tower. It was perfectly cozy though, as Aerion and Baelor’s private dining chamber. The brothers have a routine of taking supper together if they were both at home – especially after their mother, the Lady Jeyne Swann Targaryen had passed in grief of her late husband several years past.

“I went to visit Ser Wilfred and Maester Kelhmon today,” Baelor said with a big grin as Aerion sat across from him, “Maester Kelhmon showed me how to change a bandage for burns.”

Aerion smiled at his little brother. Baelor is a helpful and kind boy, and grew close to Xorru, Maester Kelhmon, and some other castle servants after their parents passed. “And how was it? Did you get to try changing one?”

Baelor nodded enthusiastically as he dug into his stew, “I took care of Ser Wilfred’s left hand, and Maester Kelhmon promised that I could treat Kistam’s back next time.”

Aerion raised an eyebrow, “Kistam?”

“Yeah, that’s the boy’s name. He was awake for a bit when I was there, though he still had a bad headache. He told us his name when we asked. He also said that he was from Astapor.”

That was not surprising to Aerion, as he and Xorru both agreed that the boy is of the Eastern continent. Aerion spoke up, “I’m glad that you’re checking in on our guests. They have traveled further than anyone at Stonedance, and you’ll learn lots from them when they get better.”

Aerion’s words deepened Baelor’s smile and the young boy replied, “I really want to hear stories about the Free Cities and about Old Ghis. I want to visit those places myself when I’m bigger.”

“You will have the chance, Baelor, after you’ve proved to me that you can wield a sword to protect yourself,” Aerion cut up his roast lamb “… at least against Ser Jason Hyde, when he visits from King’s Landing.” Aerion added before Baelor could jump out of his seat in excitement.

Baelor let out an annoyed groan, no doubt thinking about Ser Jason’s advanced technique and how long it would take to train to challenge the trusted knight of the High Septon.

“Don’t fret little brother; you’ll get there.” Aerion took a sip from his glass and changed the conversation topic. “Are you ready to ride to Harrenhal with me in less than a fortnight?”

“All ready, I don’t really have much to pack.” Baelor looked up to Aerion, “Is it okay if I bring a stuffed bear toy for little Rhaenys? For Princess Elia to bring to her?”

“I think Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys will both like that.” Aerion smiled with approval. Baelor adores the little Princess, even though the babe is less than a name day old. “Though if you are bringing something for the little Princess, you should bring something for Prince Viserys as well, you are close in age.”

Baelor wrinkled his nose a little, “Viserys cries all the time and **_always gets_** what he wants.”

“Baelor, it is not our place to judge Prince Viserys. You must remember to be polite and nice to him if he comes to the tourney … and to all of the royal family and the King’s attendants.” Aerion held Baelor’s gaze, tone serious, “you know that the King easily suspects treachery, and we cannot…”

“We cannot afford to be suspected. The King will detain us, exile us, or even kill us.” Baelor cut off Aerion in mid-sentence and complained, “but we’re not even doing anything remotely dishonest. We have always been loyal to them.”

Aerion fell quiet at his brother’s frustration. He swallowed and tried to explain, “We are not doing anything, nor do we plan to in the future, you are right. But we are not normal nobles. We carry the Targaryen name and all the power and influence that comes with it.”

Aerion sighed and patted on his brother’s shoulder, “But that power is dangerous to have. We have to keep our head down and be respectful and likable – our family’s survival is on the line.”

“I do understand all of this brother, you needn’t worry about me.” Baelor looked sad but spoke with determination and understanding that was beyond his age.

“I know you do. You’ve never let me down, Baelor.” The brothers leaned back in their chairs and moved to finish their supper with lighter conversation.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ser Wilfred Bywater is awake. Aerion heard the news from a servant while he welcomed back his trade envoy to Braavos in the main hall of Stonedance castle. He interrupted his trade captain as the older man neared the end of his presentation about the envoy’s sales.

“I apologize for the interruption, Ser Brayton, but I must tend to another matter,” Aerion stood up, “You have served Stonedance well on your trip and we will finish our discussion in my study later tonight.”

Ser Brayton shrugged and nodded knowingly at his lord, “of course, my lord. I will help organize our gains with Ser Bryce and allow fellow traders to settle home.”

Aerion smiled at Ser Brayton and turned to exit the main hall. He made his way to the master tower and hiked up four stories of the tower. Unexpectantly, he ran into Maester Kelhmon in the hallway twenty paces outside the guest chambers where Ser Wilfred and Kistam stayed.

“Maester?” Aerion slowed down his steps and stopped in front of his mentor.

“My lord.” The Maester paused before he began with a deep frown, “Ser Wilfred is awake, but I cannot tell if he is truly better or if it is only temporary.” Maester Kelhmon shook his head, “he has great injuries in his internal organs, and I fear that I cannot give him more milk of the poppy when those injuries act up again.”

“So he needs more rest before we disturb him.”

“He has been told that Lord Daeron had passed, and you are the current Lord of Stonedance.” Maester Kelhmon didn’t answer the question in Aerion’s words but explained with a sadness in his tone, “it was the first thing he asked for – to see Lord Daeron.”

Aerion could understand the knight’s wishes. Ser Wilfred had been away for more than fifteen years and believed that he could still report back to his best friend and liege lord.

“He was shocked when we told him, but quickly got over it.” Maester Kelhmon looked into Aerion’s eyes, “he was then vehement to see you. As soon as possible.”

Aerion frowned and tightened his right hand into a fist in anticipation. He was eager to talk to Ser Wilfred too, and ask about everything that was on his mind since his talk with Xorru, “is he well enough to speak to me?”

“Aye… but don’t tire him out.” Maester Kelhmon replied, “if he slips into another fever, even the Seven cannot save him.”

Aerion took a deep breath and looked out to the empty hallway in front of him, “I must talk to him, for my father’s sake and for my sake.”

Maester Kelhmon leaned lightly against the stone wall and watched after his student and lord, as the tall silver-haired man strode confidently towards the guest chambers.

The chambers smelled heavily of the Maester’s herb ointments when Aerion walked in. Two maids were helping Ser Wilfred sit up and lean against the headboard. The injured knight looked horribly pale with dark circles around his eyes. His charred right arm and hand fell uselessly to his side and he was grimacing in pain.

The trio turned to look towards the entrance when Aerion entered. The maids stepped away from the bed after Ser Wilfred could lean his weight on the headboard and gave small curtsies to Aerion.

Aerion waved for the maids to take their leave and walked slowly towards the bed. Kistam’s bed was empty and freshly made, so Aerion presumed that they’ve moved the boy to his own room.

Ser Wilfred is a stranger to Aerion. The knight had left Westeros after Aerion’s second name day and therefore Aerion had no recollection of him. Being Lord Daeron’s best friend, Aerion supposed that they probably had met long ago and the knight might have even played with him or held him as a babe.

Aerion surveyed the ailing Ser’s condition up close and slowly locked eyes with Wilfred’s deep brown ones. Aerion hesitated before asking softly, “how are you feeling?”

“I am not at my best.” Ser Wilfred rasped with a weak smile, his voice was deep and scratched from oversleep. He stared at the young lord by his bedside and felt tears well up in his eyes. “I still can’t believe it, about your father. He was too young.” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

Aerion swallowed and tried to organize the many questions that he wanted to ask in his mind. Maester Kelhmon was right, it is a miracle that the man in front of him can hold conversation and have not succumbed to his wounds.

Ser Wilfred broke the brief pause. He tried to point with his good hand towards a closet, though his eyes focused on his best friend’s son, who inherited Lord Daeron’s facial features and build, “The clothes that I had on me, there is a hidden pocket sewn around my pant leg.”

He gave more guidance as Aerion turned to find the mentioned article of clothing. “There should be a tiny silver key, barely thick enough to be felt.”

Aerion retrieved the key with ease with Ser Wilfred’s instructions. The tiny thing, about half the size of his thumb rested in his palm. It was decorated with intricate carvings. Aerion waited for Ser Wilfred to explain.

“It’s for the chest that we brought over. There is a powerful protection on it.” Ser Wilfred held out his left hand for the key and Aerion passed it over.

To Aerion’s surprise, the knight held up his good hand and bit on his thumb, blood oozed out from his fingertip and rubbed the key with his fresh wound.

“Kistam’s father used blood magic from Asshai, only my blood can open the chest.” Ser Wilfred held out the key, now smudged by blood, back to Aerion. “I think you will find better answers there than from me.”

Aerion frowned slightly and fisted the key in his hand. He knew that the guards ended up moving the chest to the guest study room, just down the hall. “Where have you been, all this time?” he looked to the man in the bed.

Ser Wilfred had a pensive look and smiled weakly before he began. Aerion gaped in shock as the man spoke the most inconceivable words in total calm. “I had two important missions from your father. The first is to find King Tommen Lannister II’s ancestral sword. And the second is to protect your family’s dragon egg as it bathed in the volcanic ashes outside of Oros’ ruins – in the same cave where Balerion the Black Dread was hatched.”

Silence fell upon the room as the Lord of Stonedance stared unblinkingly at his father’s most loyal friend and bannerman.

Ser Wilfred Bywater’s eyes held traces of amusement to Aerion’s reaction and he patted encouragingly on Aerion’s wrist. “You will understand soon enough… I hope I haven’t failed your father.” Wilfred looked sad again and seemed to reminisce about happenings in the past.

Still recovering from the shock and holding a good portion disbelief at Ser Wilfred’s admission, Aerion could only nod at the man. “I will check up on you later, get some good rest, Ser.”

Ser Wilfred looked to the lord with a genuine smile. “Kistam’s family is of Asshai, he and his father both owe me a life debt – or owed at least, for his father died. The boy knows no black magic or sorcery and is a good lad. I thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Ser Wilfred.” Aerion returned the man’s smile and paused before leaving. He took a deep breath and felt great appreciation for the man, “thank you… for everything.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chest was rectangular, a little longer than an arm’s length and as wide as a short blade. The entire chest was of ebony wood and looked worn with age. The key slipped easily into the eye of the padlock and with a smooth turn, the shackle opened with a quiet click. Aerion rested his hands on top of the dusty lid and willed his speeding heart to slow down. 

What would he find inside? He had been desperate for answers but now, being so close to the secrets of the past, he felt nervous and unsure. This chest could explain his father’s journeys to Essos, it could explain Ser Wilfred’s disappearance, it could even explain his father’s early demise.

Aerion steadied his breathing and pulled up the heavy lid. There weren’t much in the chest, making the storage piece look largely empty. But the round and majestic object in the far corner of the chest immediately caught Aerion’s eye.

Prince Aerion’s dragon egg was gold and silver. It was placed in his crib shortly after his birth by King Maekar I per Targaryen tradition – or at least when there were still enough dragon eggs to go around. It was then passed down in Prince Aerion’s line to accompany a baby Maegor, and then to Aerion’s own father, Daeron Targaryen. Daeron had brought the Dragon egg to Essos before his wedding, and Aerion had assumed that it was lost, since he had never seen the unique heirloom.

Holding the dragon egg, which curiously gave off a small warmth, Aerion had no doubt that it was the very egg that had been given to his great-grandfather and namesake. Relief washed through him as the egg was not lost and he could share this great treasure with Baelor, and eventually his own children. It was the symbol of the Targaryen dynasty and the sigil of his house – Aerion was overjoyed that he has the opportunity to care for a true dragon egg, something even his cousins Princes Rhaegar and Viserys do not have.

Aerion gently wrapped the dragon egg in thick cloths and covered its bright shine. He would safekeep the egg in the hidden cabinet in the Lord’s study, and only allow the most trustworthy members of his household learn of its return to Stonedance.

Placing the wrapped dragon egg carefully on the table, Aerion turned to the next articles in the mystery chest. Something long and sturdy seemed to be wrapped in a dark cloth. It laid at the very bottom of the chest, so Aerion turned to a small scroll of parchment that was nearest to him.

The scroll’s edges were wrinkled and worn and was just tall enough to lay in his palm. The irregularly shaped wax seal was clearly done in haste, and over the years, the corners of the seal had chipped off, though the document was still intact.

Prying the seal open with his thumb, the parchment was more tightly rolled than Aerion had imagined when he opened the sheet.

His lord father’s hand filled the page. Aerion recognized the scrawl immediately, after years of referencing through his father’s old letters and notes about running Stonedance castle. Aerion’s hands shook slightly as he focused his gaze upon the letter.

_My son Aerion,_

_I do not know if you will ever have the chance to read this. If you are reading now, it must be that Wilfred or someone he sent has returned home. I write to you not knowing if I will survive my own trip home, for I am getting weaker by the hour, but I need you to know that I terribly miss you and your grandfather._

_The most important reason why I needed to be away was because of my visions. They were more frequent in my youth and are often followed by a fit of madness or as if I have been possessed. You grandparents know this, and my closest friends know this – including Wilfred. When your grandfather discovered my condition, he decided that I had to be raised in Essos. Stonedance would have been too close to King’s Landing and Dragonstone, and our presence at court would have been expected, if not required. Madness in me would remind the court and the King of unpleasant histories involving Prince Aerion the Monstrous, and surely our family will be viewed as a threat and be prosecuted._

_I had three visions that either deeply puzzled me or disturbed me, and I tried to pursue all of them with my time. My visions are not prophecies, I should say, they involve both the past and the potential future. Before you read on, know that I’ve witnessed completely different outcomes in reality from what happened in my vision._

_My earliest vision was that of King Tommen’s legendary sword, Brightroar. I saw the Lannister King’s ships cruise across the ruins of Valyria, exactly as it happened a thousand years ago. I saw King Tommen seeking refuge in the ruins, and how his guards tried to fight off firewyrms. I saw exactly which tower the King hid with his last men, and I saw the King lay dead with Brightroar cradled in his arms. I asked Wilfred to keep searching for that tower after our failed attempt and try his very best to retrieve Brightroar. My instinct tells me that it is our fate to have it, and its use will prove vital to our family._

_My second dream was of a dragon. It is a breathtaking sight, even in my vision. I see a giant with dark green scales, but no dragon rider. It flew over endless fields of snow and ice, and I cannot tell if it took place in the North or another continent altogether. If the world will see dragons again, then there is hope for our family’s dragon egg. I had brought it to Essos as a plaything, but I instructed Wilfred to take it to the infamous cave of Balerion the Black Dread. If the egg will ever hatch, it has the best chance in the birthplace of its ancestor. A grand master from Asshai said that the egg should bathe in ash for a decade, which I shared with Wilfred for his mission. I truly hope that dragons will be companions to our family once again._

_My last dream had to do with you, my son. And I was deeply troubled by what it implied, for our dynasty and for our family. I saw the Great Sept of Baelor and preparations for a grand coronation. I saw the crown of Maekar the First atop your head – you are older, sure, but I know it was you and not Rhaegar from your eyes. I can’t imagine what could have happened that led to your coronation, but I urge you to be cautious with whatever you do. Power can destroy a man as quickly as it can make a man._

_Please forgive me for keeping all of this from you. It will do you no benefit to know all of this if Wilfred does not make it home – so you were only to read this if he returns, regardless if he was successful or not. I cannot risk your safety if you decide to take these quests on yourself. Help me be kind to Wilfred if I am gone, for our house owes him a great debt. He is the best warrior that I’ve met, and he would serve you loyally as he did me._

_I cannot decide if my visions and Wilfred’s return will be a blessing or a burden to our family. But whatever challenges lie ahead, I know you will act honorably and wisely. You have always made me proud by your grandfather and mother’s letters, and I believe in your capabilities to lead our house after me._

_Your father by his own hand,_

_Daeron Targaryen_

_Volantis, 271 AC_

Aerion reread the letter a second time in close detail. His hand is shaking slightly from the revelations and the words of his father. Lord Daeron had not spoken about any of this in the three years that he mentored his son, which was a wise decision since a young boy could hardly keep the information unrevealed.

His father’s visions had involved high treason, if you considered the royal ban on exploring Valyria and the **_mysterious turn of events_** that would lead to his coronation. Aerion shook his head in disbelief, King Aerys II was paranoid, of course, but Prince Rhaegar would be a benevolent King.

If not, Rhaegar still had a brother and a daughter as his heirs. Aerion could not imagine any scenario where the Crown will fall to his head, unless he usurped his cousin’s throne.

On that note, he had never considered being a usurper. It was his duty to follow, not to lead. He respects his popular older cousin, Prince Rhaegar, and had hoped that the Prince would be open-minded in his reign. Perhaps the Future King Rhaegar would even be generous enough to allow Aerion to help out with affairs of the realm. The Sevens knows that Aerion wants to contribute to his family’s dynasty, and not have to hide his talent and stay indifferent to everything around him.

Aerion folded the letter carefully and slipped it into a hidden pocket in his robes. He leaned into the chest to clear the last items. The firm object wrapped in dark cloths revealed itself to be Brightroar, quietly calling back to Lord Daeron’s words and vision. Aerion couldn’t help but admire the Valyrian steel sword in the sunlight. He had memorized the descriptions of Brightroar from a young age, and he quietly murmured the sword’s features as his fingers brushed over the pommel of a lion’s head and along its grip and guard.

At the very bottom of the chest, there were a handful of Gold Dragons and a heavy ruby ring on silver. The band looked expensive and regal, and Aerion came up with a perfect use for it. Sitting down next to the open chest, he held Brightroar tight in his lap. He thought long and hard about what he is going to do.


	3. The Greatest Tourney of the Generation

**Author’s Note:**

Please bear with me, there are some more OCs in this chapter. Hopefully, nothing is too confusing yet…

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Tell me what you think in the comments!

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Greatest Tourney of the Generation**

**_Grandview, by the Kingswood, Stormlands, 281 AC_ **

The Lord of Stonedance’s party had to delay their departure from Stonedance when several trunks for their trip had been misplaced. The fair-sized group, about twenty knights followed by squires and servants, was to accompany Lord Aerion and Lord Baelor to Harrenhal to attend a grand tourney.

They were now riding to Grandview of House Grandison, with Aerion on his horse and Baelor in a carriage. House Grandison’s modest holding was by the Kingswood and on the way for the party to travel north for Harrenhal. Aside from practicality, Aerion was excited to reach Grandview for other reasons as well.

Lorent Grandison, the heir to Grandview, was of Aerion’s age and a close friend to Aerion. As children, they trained together at Stonedance under Xorru and had fought side by side to dissolve the Kingswood Brotherhood rebellion. In a few days, Lorent, his sister, and his lord father would join Aerion’s party to head to Harrenhal.

Another matter is to give his condolences for the recent passing of Ser Harlan Grandison, a former Kingsguard. The aging knight had served House Targaryen valiantly and faithfully, and while the main ceremony to commemorate him had taken place in the capital, Aerion wanted to personally pay respects at the Grandview crypt. Ser Harlan had always been kind to Aerion, and the two enjoyed a good relationship whenever Aerion visited court.

The day is sunny, and the ride is quiet. Too quiet for Aerion, as his thoughts shifted from riding and House Grandison to matters at Stonedance.

After Aerion’s initial conversation with Ser Wilfred, the knight was slowly getting better. Maester Kelhmon had approved Aerion to meet the knight a second time, and the two discussed more details of his search for Brightroar and how he met Kistam.

Apparently, Lord Daeron’s descriptions of the Valyrian tower was both helpful and vague. Too many wrecked towers matched Daeron’s descriptions and exploring each one required careful planning and utmost vigilance. Raiders and stonemen roamed the ruins of Valyria, along with mysterious creatures of legends.

Lord Daeron had given Ser Wilfred complete command over his men in Volantis and Tolos and asked his maternal uncles in Tolos to aid Wilfred with trained men, Essos connections, and gold – without which Ser Wilfred’s mission would have surely failed.

Kistam’s father was the grand master from Asshai that Daeron mentioned in his letter. Daeron and Wilfred met the sorcerer in Astapor but Wilfred did not see him again until two years ago, when he saved a father and son from pirates around the Gulf of Grief. The pair turned out to be the grand master and his son, Kistam. The grand master was fascinated that Lord Daeron actually went through with the dragon hatch experiment. He wanted to check on the dragon egg himself until he was captured and executed by another band of raiders on the way to Balerion’s cave.

Wilfred watched the dragon egg faithfully for a decade. He and Tolos men set up defences around the cave and fended off intruders without drawing too much attention. Wilfred personally checked on the egg every other night for any signs of hatching. When the ten years was up, he was disappointed that the experiment failed. The dragon egg acquired a new warmth after spending a decade in warm volcanic ash, but the egg failed to hatch.

Aerion was disappointed too. Although the experiment sounded far-fetched, there was at least a spark of hope to bring back dragons. Now the egg sat alone in the darkness of a hidden cabinet, with only Baelor occasionally visiting the egg to admire it.

Aerion had struggled with what to tell Baelor after learning so many stories about their father’s past and visions. After a brief exchange with Xorru, Maester Kelhmon, and Wilfred, Aerion decided that Baelor should know about the dragon egg for now, and little else until he is older. Aerion would keep Lord Daeron’s letter safe, and Baelor would get a chance to understand everything for himself in the future.

A grey gatehouse and two towers appeared on the horizon and pulled Aerion from his musing. The party is in the last leg of their one-day’s ride to Grandview, and that cheered Aerion up right away.

Aerion slowed down his horse and made his way to the carriage in the middle of the procession. He slid the window open and found a sleeping Baelor on a pile of pillows. He smiled in amusement and knocked softly on the window frame.

“Time to get up, we’re almost there.”

Baelor turned and tossed but didn’t open his eyes, clearly drowsy from his nap.

Aerion chuckled lightly and tried again, “You won’t get to choose your pony if you’re sleeping.”

That seemed to grab Baelor’s attention as the boy rubbed his eyes and struggled to sit up with a groan.

Lorent Grandison had wrote to Aerion boasting the young sucklings of his own stallion. His beautiful and muscular destrier sired two beautiful foals that were growing strong and showed potential of becoming powerful warhorses – one with a beautiful chestnut coat and another fully white. Lorent had offered one of them to Baelor and will gift another to his sister’s newly betrothed. 

Baelor had been looking forward to getting the first pick, since Lady Everly Grandison’s betrothed, young Lord Renfred Rykker, will not meet their party until Harrenhal. Baelor sat up to straighten his robes and shrugged on his outer coat, the boy is fast at getting ready.

In no time, the Lord of Stonedance’s party was halting to a stop before the gates of Grandview. The middle-aged Lord Grandison stood to welcome Lord Aerion and Lord Baelor with his household.

Pleasantries were exchanged and cheery small talk took over as the guests were invited straight into the main hall for supper.

Aerion sat between Lord Grandison and his son, a tall and broad young man with thick brown curls. Food was quickly served and Aerion relaxed to converse casually with Lorent, Everly, and their lord father as he did many times before when he stopped by Grandview. Their houses have been close since the time of Lord Maegor, so Aerion felt as comfortable as at home.

Later in the night, Lorent accompanied Aerion down to the crypts of Grandview. The underground chambers were cold and humid, and the halls were lined with solemn statues of Lorent Grandison’s ancestors.

“I heard that Ser Harlan passed unexpectantly.”

“Aye. But Ser Harlan had celebrated his three and sixtieth nameday a few moons past. He enjoyed a good ride for his years.” Lorent gestured Aerion to a newly sculpted statue in white marble, which proudly signified Ser Harlan’s membership in the Kingsguard. “He was weaker last year after his flu, so it wasn’t a complete surprise.”

“Ser Harlan was dutiful and brave. House Grandison is a greater house with his achievements.” Aerion lit a candle on the stone table by the statue. He looked up to the former Kingsguard’s chiseled features.

Lorant nodded in agreement and wiped some dust away from the statue’s outstretched sword arm. His great-uncle was the pride of his family ever since he became a sworn brother, and he had admired the powerful knight growing up.

“Do you know if the King or the Lord Commander has a new Kingsguard candidate in mind?”

“Not that I know of.” Lorent frowned, “My family went to King’s Landing to collect Ser Harlan’s body, and Lord Commander Hightower didn’t mention anything.”

“Hmmm, maybe his grace wants to recruit from the tourney, like a champion of the melee?”

“Aye, that’s likely. Harrenhal will gather all the notable lords and houses, so the new knights are all flocking over to earn a name for themselves.”

The friends strode back towards the exit. The night breeze had a hint of chilliness when Aerion climbed out of the Grandview crypt. Lorent bid Aerion goodnight and went to check on his men and the stables before riding out in the morrow.

Aerion’s party would only stay in Grandview for a night before continuing north. The King and lords in the capital will depart in a few days from King’s Landing, and Aerion preferred traveling independently with his men better than joining the King’s painfully slow procession.

He had planned with Lorent to take the Kingsroad north three days ahead of the King to avoid the crowds. Accounting for the smaller towns and holdings that they will stay on the way, and running into other familiar houses and their parties, Aerion will still arrive before the moon’s turn. That is ample time to settle in Harrenhal and prepare for the tourney.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Harrentown, Riverlands, 281 AC_ **

Harrentown lies just outside the western walls of Harrenhal castle. It is usually a quiet and peaceful town, but with the upcoming grand tourney, it is bustling with activity. Some lords and knights have opted to arrive early to the tourney and meet with acquaintances and friends for drinking, whoring, gambling, and all other fun.

Lorent was the first one to spot the red crabs strewn on white blazon just outside of Harrentown. The banners of Claw Isle flew proudly in the wind with a small gathering of horsemen and carriages. He pointed them out to Aerion and the two turned the direction of their party to approach the House Celtigar men instead of heading straight into town. Baelor was riding his pony by Aerion’s side this time. The all-white horse was as energetic as its rider and liked to explore the thin woods along their journey despite its slower strides.

The Celtigar guards noticed them too, and not long later, a rider in lavish purple robes rode out of the group to greet the incoming Stonedance and Grandview party.

Lord Alton Celtigar is the son and heir to the elderly and frail Lord Ardrian Celtigar. He has a thin beard and is known to keep a serious expression on his face for whatever occasion. He is an accomplished warrior and has been the main figure running Claw Isle for the past decade and a half.

Alton now stopped in front of Aerion and gave a slight bow as an acknowledgement of Aerion and Baelor’s royal blood. “My lords Aerion, Baelor, and Grandison, I was expecting you to be with the King.”

Aerion dipped his head in greeting as well, “We rode ahead, Lord Alton. We wanted to seize the opportunity to experience Harrentown’s hospitality.”

Alton let a half-smile at his lips, “Of course. My riders have informed me that House Rosby and House Mooton are already staying at the inn. I was about to book out some apartments for my men too. Your lordships are most welcome to join us.”

“That would be excellent.” Aerion returned with a smile. He and Lorent knew that many Houses close to Harrenhal had started to arrive to the area. Catching up with House Rosby and House Mooton of Maidenpool would be valuable. 

Despite the chaos and crowds in the streets of Harrentown, the classy inn that Lord Celtigar had led them to was calm and cozy. They settled into comfortable apartments soon enough, as the hefty room charge discouraged lesser nobles and knights from seeking accommodation at the tavern and inn.

The day passed into nighttime and a feast was planned with the Grandisons, Celtigars, Rosbys, and Mootons. Aerion dressed in casual dark red robes and bid Baelor to put on a dark indigo coat. They made their way to the tavern hall, accompanied by Ser Grant, the Stonedance captain of the guards.

Aerion had met most of the Lords and Ladies at the table, so he focused on introducing them to Baelor. From House Rosby, the nephew and heir of Lord Gyles Rosby came to the tourney with his twin sister. Kamden and Kaelyn Rosby and were both six and ten and sat together to his left side. Kamden has always been a bookish lad, but he seemed fortunate enough to not inherit the sickly nature of House Rosby members. He conversed confidently and shared enlightening stories about past tourneys in the Riverlands.

His twin, Kaelyn Rosby, looked spirited and energetic too. She has long and loose light caramel hair and a silvery and warm laugh. She is in the middle of replying to Lorent’s sister, Everly Grandison.

Across from the Grandisons, House Mooton was represented by the younger generation as well. Young Lord Willian Mooton is soft spoken and quiet, while his sister Viviana Mooton, who’s only three and ten, spoke clearly with charm and elegance.

Alton Celtigar had brought his wife and sons, Clement and Terrence, to Harrentown. The boys scarcely left Claw Isle and are making conversation around the table to learn about the Crownlands and Riverlands. Baelor easily slipped into a conversation with Clement about Massey’s Hook and what hunting in the Kingswood is like.

Aerion mostly listened to the small talk about court gossip and about lands and holdings that were around him. He spoke up to William Mooton when the subject landed on the King and royal household. “How has Myles been, being squire to Prince Rhaegar?”

“Myles adores being in the Red Keep and close to the Prince and Kingsguard. He has always been more gifted with a sword than I am, and the Prince has been kind to teach him.” William smiled proudly for his younger brother.

“I am glad. I spoke to Ser Barristan Selmy the last time I visited, and he complimented on young Myles’s quick improvement.”

“It is an honor to serve the Prince and receive tutelage from Ser Barristan. Myles is very lucky.” William agreed.

“Have you considered taking on a squire?” Aerion turned to Kaelyn Rosby, surprised of her sudden question.

The other guests at the table are turning in as well, “I haven’t had a squire before. I’m not sure...”

“Well, you could use one for the tourney to prepare for the joust or the melee. You **_are_** participating, right?” Kamden Rosby suggested with a friendly smile.

Before Aerion could respond, Alton Celtigar chimed in, “Lord Aerion, I am happy to arrange my younger son, Terrence, to squire for you, if you will have him.” The Lord of Claw Isle had spoken about developing his younger son into a capable warrior and wanted him to gain experience outside of Claw Isle.

Aerion hesitated for a few seconds and smiled warmly at the nervous looking Terrence. It is true that he could use a squire and strengthening Claw Isle’s relationship with Stonedance is never a bad idea, though he initially planned not to participate in the tourney. “Your son has a natural talent and I am happy to have him.”

The Lord of Claw Isle flashed his first true smile that Aerion has ever seen. Lady Celtigar looked proudly at her younger son. “Thank you, my lord. It is settled then; Terrence shall return with your lordship to Stonedance and serve you until he is worthy of a knighthood.”

That was the standard arrangement between noble squires, so Aerion nodded. “I will take care of him, rest assured, Lord Celtigar.”

A chorus of congratulations sounded around the table to both Aerion and young Terrence. Being only three and ten, Terrence blushed a little as a response to all the attention. Though, he dipped his head at Aerion with determination in his eyes.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Harrenhal, Riverlands, 281 AC_ **

The royal procession was in view and everyone was rushing to the courtyard to greet the King and the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Aerion looked out his window to see the first handful of cavalrymen wearing black cloaks with the three-headed dragon sigil of the Targaryen dynasty.

He straightened his own robes and called for Baelor, Ser Grant, and his new squire, Terrence Celtigar. The four met in the hallway of the Kingspyre Tower, where they were assigned by Lord Walter Whent to stay.

“Don’t be nervous, it will be quick.” Aerion assured a tense Terrence, “We won’t stand very close and you can stand behind me.” Aerion understood a boy’s nervousness to see the rumored mad King for the first time.

Terrence looked grateful and mumbled a quiet thank-you.

Baelor looked excited but also worried. He still didn’t want to see Prince Viserys.

Aerion patted on his brother’s shoulder, “Prince Viserys is only five, and the trip to Harrenhal is rather tedious. He probably stayed behind.”

Baelor nodded in consideration. “The feast will be fun though, held in the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, the biggest hall in all of Westeros!”

The three others chuckled at Baelor’s declaration and headed for the ground floor courtyard. They brushed past other noble lords and ladies and paused from time to time to exchange greetings.

When they arrived, the Whent household was already in a line facing the gatehouse in their rightful position as hosts, while other great houses of the Riverlands crowded behind and around them.

Aerion quietly led his company to the far left of the greeting crowds and popped between House Manderly and House Hunter. Lord Eon Hunter of Longbow Hall looked surprised and tried to bow in his half-crippled state, so Aerion quickly waved him off.

“There is no need, Lord Hunter.”

Lord Hunter grunted and straightened himself, “thank you, Lord Aerion.” He nodded to Baelor in acknowledgment.

Lord Manderly was talking to a hedge knight before he noticed his new neighbor, “Lord Aerion and Lord Baelor, good to see you.” He smiled kindly and held his massive belly.

Baelor started at Lord Wyman Manderly’s obese state in awe so Aerion quickly replied before Baelor could say anything embarrassing, “as it is good to see you, Lord Manderly. How is White Harbor?”

Aerion and the larger lord shared the status of White Harbor and Stonedance respectively.

Then the crowd started to fall quiet. The royal procession and carriage were coming to a halt and Lord Whent walked up to greet the knights of the Kingsguard, before stopping respectfully before the carriage.

Aerion knelt and kept his head down as most of the courtyard knelt for their King. From the brick floors of the courtyard, Aerion could see the horses of cavalrymen and the boots and sheathed swords of the infantry guards.

He heard the smooth swing of the carriage doors and light footsteps down the carriage stool. A croaky voice filled the vicinity. “Rise, Lord Whent.”

“Your grace, Harrenhal is yours.”

There was a breathy grunt and the crowd began to get up. Aerion pulled himself up and helped the overweight Manderly lord stand up as well.

The King was paler and thinner than usual, if that was at all possible. His long silvery hair grew well past his shoulders and was matted and tangled. He was scrutinizing the gathered members of House Whent as the nervous hosts held their breath. Lord Whent’s young daughter was almost squirming under the King’s sharp glare.

Someone needs to smooth over the tension, Aerion thought. And they need to come fast.

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen threw the reins of his mount to Commander Gerold Hightower of the Kingsguard and approached the standoff gracefully. The prince was lean and tall and undeniably handsome. He smiled brightly and broke the uncomfortable silence. “Lord Whent, Harrentown and Harrenhal look wonderful. We are honoured to be your guests.”

Lord Whent exhaled in obvious relief, “The honor is all mine, your grace. We have a welcoming feast prepared, please follow me.” Lord Whent looked anxiously between the glaring King and the Dragon Prince.

Prince Rhaegar dipped his head respectfully at his father. “Your grace.” He gestured for the King to lead the way.

The King narrowed his eyes to scan the full crowd around him. He grunted again and strode in the direction of Lord Whent’s outstretched arm, bound for Harrenhal’s great hall.

Noble lords and ladies of Westeros congregated in the enormous great hall. Harrenhal was built in a gigantic scale, the stories have not lied to Aerion. Long tables were set up near the center of the hall and hundreds of guests mingled before the formal feast began. The large assembly would have easily overfilled all other great halls in the land, but not at Harrenhal. More than thirty hearths all lit up for occasion and most of the space was still left unoccupied.

Aerion knew that it was only a matter of time until he is expected to make an appearance before the King. So, when Prince Rhaegar found him in the crowd chatting with the Grandisons and Celtigars, he was ready.

He left Baelor in the good company of Lorent and the Celtigar brothers before heading to the elevated main table of the host and the royal family. Even though Baelor was relieved that Prince Viserys in fact did not come to the tourney, he had begged Aerion to not take him to the head table and be around the moody King. Aerion had to oblige when Baelor almost had tears in his eyes.

It was good to see Rhaegar though. “Your grace, how was your journey north?”

Rhaegar chuckled, “Leaving the Red Keep was painfully chaotic, but the Kingsroad was a smooth journey.”

“And Princess Elia is well?” Aerion noticed that the Princess’s belly swelled with pregnancy, the babe was probably due soon too.

“She is as well as any expectant mother; the babe will arrive after we get home.” Rhaegar looked excited for his unborn child. “And how is Stonedance, cousin? The last time I went was a lifetime ago.”

“I’m sure little has changed since then, your grace. Though I have been sending more trade envoys to the Free Cities. I brought something for both you and Princess Elia, as well as something for the King; originally bought from Braavos’s markets.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Aerion.” Prince Rhaegar patted on his shoulder. “Go attend to the King, and then come sit by me for the feast.” The Prince pointed towards the left side of the head table, where the lords of the great houses were hovering and waiting.

Aerion nodded and walked up alone to the sullen King. He stopped in front of the high table and bowed respectfully, “Your grace.”

The King didn’t answer, and only half sneered at Aerion. But Aerion was used to that reaction and maintained a respectful grin.

“I came across a prized ruby ring and I would be honoured to present it to you, your grace.”

The King glared at Aerion right in the eyes for a few seconds before waving Aerion forward.

Aerion took out a small velvet box and opened it in front of the King. It was the ruby ring that Ser Wilfred had brought back. It was not overly extravagant, but it did have a special un-Westerosi design to it, complimented by smaller diamonds around the main ruby.

King Aerys II did not look very impressed, but that did not matter. Aerion always brought gifts to the King and sometimes the Queen to show his respect. _The Lords of Stonedance are his grace’s loyal subjects, there was no doubt about that._

The King lost interest in Aerion quickly and half waved at Prince Rhaegar’s direction. Taking that as an invitation to join the head table, Aerion gently placed the ruby ring and box before the King and took his leave.

Aerion is grateful for the King’s indifference. It only meant that the King has not heard of any developments at Stonedance, namely Ser Wilfred and Kistam’s mysterious appearance. Aerion trusts that his guards and castle servants are loyal, but it was a relief to know for sure – or to know that there are no spies from the Crown among the higher-ranked castle officials.

He wrapped up his thoughts about Stonedance before he sat down on the left side of Prince Rhaegar, who had Princess Elia Martell on his other side.

The royal couple turned towards Aerion and Rhaegar asked, “How did it go?”

“His grace was kind.”

Rhaegar gave a small smirk and shook his head, “Don’t be offended, cousin, my father rarely takes pleasure from anything anymore.”

Aerion smiled back at him and turned to the Princess, “Congratulations, Princess Elia, I hope the babe arrives strong and healthy.”

The Princess’s face brightened at the mention of her unborn child, “Thank you, Lord Aerion.”

“Have you considered potential names, your grace?”

The Prince and Princess exchanged an excited glance and Rhaegar replied, “I’m not sure about a girl, but Aegon if it’s a boy, there is no better name for a future King.”

Aerion nodded in agreement. Aegon is more than a name. It was the name fit for a powerful and wise King, who is loved by his realm. It represented the golden age of the Targaryen dynasty and Prince Rhaegar’s vision to for a prosperous Seven Kingdoms. The Dragon Prince is charismatic and a natural leader – Aerion is sure that Prince Rhaegar will be a great King after his monarch father.

The feast was about to begin, and Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie found his seat to next to Aerion. The older lord greeted the Prince, the Princess, and the Lord of Stonedance courteously.

At the center of the head table, Lord Whent gave a brief welcome to all guests to Harrenhal and left the stage for the King. The King showed no extra emotion and dryly spoke a few words. He bid the feast to begin and returned to glaring at the nobles who are gathered. Aerion felt great sympathies for Lord Whent as it was the host’s duty to entertain the King all evening.

Lord Arryn seemed to be in a good mood. He talked to Prince Rhaegar about preparations in the Eyrie for the seemingly perennial winter.

“The mountain clans have been raiding villages again?” The Prince looked concerned.

“Aye. Only the remote ones for now, but I fear they are merging their forces and have their eyes on some of the less-defended holdings too.”

“How many fighting men can the Mountain Clans raise?” Aerion was curious.

“Less than a thousand for sure, but they are more experienced fighters than our peasant levies. The savages can tell who has been trained and who’s not, and our new recruits have suffered considerable casualties.”

The Prince nodded in understanding, “Does the Eyrie need reinforcements from the Crownlands or the Riverlands?”

Lord Arryn smiled in appreciation but shook his head, “The Houses in the Vale have been dealing with the Mountains Clans for thousands of years. The situation is not pressing enough to trouble the Crownlands or the Riverlands.”

Lord Arryn calmly shared his reasoning and more background knowledge, and the Prince and the Lord of Stonedance listened closely. Lord Arryn has a strong reputation for being a prudent and wise lord, and he definitely lived up to his reputation.

The Eyrie is lucky to have Jon Arryn as their lord, Aerion thought. The older lord has the talent to even be the Hand of the King, if King Aerys II would be more trusting.

Soon, Harrenhal’s servants piled on mountains of platters and broth, along with baskets of fresh bread. Wine flowed through the tables in a seemingly endless supply and after a few rounds of drinks, drunken guests are taking the festivities to a whole new level. Young lords and knights are starting to invite the noble ladies in attendance to dance. 

Aerion got his opportunity to slip away when Lord Jon Arryn was called away to appear before the King. Princess Elia had already retired to her chambers, citing fatigue, so it was just a matter of clearing his seat for a circle of eager minor lords to swarm to Rhaegar. The lords of smaller houses in the Riverlands are hungry to make a good impression in front of the Crown Prince.

Aerion strolled down the hall and kept his eye out for Baelor. He wanted to collect his brother and retire to their chambers relatively early. Rhaegar had talked him into putting in his name for the joust, even though Aerion is sorely out of practice. Thus, there is plenty to prepare tomorrow morning, like procuring a proper lance and a sturdy shield.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and turned to face a smiling Ser Barristan Selmy. Ser Barristan the Bold looked every bit of a fierce warrior despite his older age. His pale blue eyes are kind, looking at Aerion.

“Ser Barristan, you were missed at the head table.” Aerion has a lot of respect for the dutiful Kingsguard. Along with Ser Harlan Grandison, Ser Barristan mentored a young Aerion when he occasionally stayed at the Red Keep. The two had gotten along quite well and even exchanged letters from time to time.

Ser Barristan shrugged, “I was on duty patrolling the courtyards and gatehouse. Prince Lewyn Martell just relieved me for the night.”

“Will you participate in the tourney?”

“Ser Arthur Dayne and I will be participating in the joust.”

Aerion smirked. He knew that Prince Rhaegar will be jousting as well, and no doubt the highly skilled Kingsguards will have to face their sworn liege. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

The corners of Ser Barristan’s lips tugged at Aerion’s comment. “His grace is very talented. I whole-heartedly believe that he will emerge as a victor against any challenger.”

“Of course.” Aerion paused before asking, “Does the King have a new candidate for the Kingsguard in mind?” He wouldn’t usually have an interest, but the fact that Commander Hightower did not mention anything to Lorent made him curious.

Ser Barristan’s smile faltered. He looked around the pulled Aerion to a quiet corner, with only a pair of drunk-out knights at the table.

“I heard rumors that the King is considering Jaime Lannister.” Ser Barristan’s words were barely above a whisper.

“What?!” Aerion was taken aback. Jaime is Lord Tywin’s son and heir, the future of Casterly Rock and House Lannister. The King would make the boy of six and ten to swear the oath of the Kingsguard – effectively giving away the rest of his life?

“I fear the rumor might be true. The King is determined to ‘put Lord Tywin back in his place.’”

“The King will lose the Westerlands with this. Jaime is all that Lord Tywin has. _And Lannisters always pay their debts_.”

“Aye, I am worried about the Lord Hand’s reaction too. It will be anything but gracious acceptance.”

The two shared similar expressions of worry and frustration. “What will it take to change the King’s mind?” Aerion tried.

“I am afraid very little will do; Unless you can find the King a second Sword of the Morning – someone altogether superior by pure merit.”

That’s not challenging at all, Aerion thought dryly, Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning is the deadliest warrior in all of Westeros. Aerion sighed sadly, “Let’s hope that Lord Tywin will be willing to contain his ire. Going to war only hurts the realm.”

Ser Barristan murmured in agreement and stared out to the head table, which was all the way across the great hall. Aerion did the same.


	4. Who Will Be The Champion?

**Author’s Note:**

This chapter quite long. I just didn’t feel comfortable breaking it up, so here it is!

I hope you are enjoying the story :)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Who Will Be The Champion?**

**_Harrenhal, Riverlands, 281 AC_ **

His new squire transitioned into his role quite quickly, Aerion decided. This afternoon will mark the start of the tourney, and hence, the line-up of the jousting tournament. His squire, the young Terrence Celtigar, has taken it upon himself to help his lord gather all the necessary equipment last minute.

His squire had arrived early outside his chambers and told Aerion all that he learned in the previous night’s feast – which market in Harrentown carried good supplies for the tournament, which houses brought extra equipment that Aerion might be able to borrow, and so on.

Aerion is sure that his squire is a great deal more excited for the tournament can he can ever be. Aerion jousts because he is expected to participate, not that he had ambitions to win the reward, or the Seven forbid, as Baelor slyly suggested, that he wanted to crown his secret lover the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Baelor had earned himself a lighthearted smack from Aerion for that comment.

Since Aerion was missing a lance and a shield, so the three, along with Lorent and a handful of guards, made their way to Harrentown in the early morning. Harrentown was even busier now that all the guests have arrived, its streets were littered with rubbish, no doubt because drunken lords and knights strolled through town for more entertainment the previous night.

More importantly, craftsmen from all around the realm set up stands to supply weapons, armor, helm, saddle – anything that could be useful to the lords and knights in the joust or the melee.

Aerion was happy to let Ser Grant, Baelor, and Terrence browse around the different stands to search for a good lance and a shield. He and Lorent stayed behind and talked about the feast.

“My sister finally saw her betrothed last night. She was quite smitten, and they even shared a dance with my father’s permission.”

Aerion laughed, “That is good news. Your lord father set up the engagement to find more Crownlands allies; it’s a bonus that Lord Renfred Rykker and Everly fancy each other.”

“True enough. I am glad that Everly is happy. Renfred seems like a good man, and his family is kind to her too. We are thinking of holding the wedding at Grandview just a few moons after the tourney.”

“So soon?” Aerion was a bit surprised.

“Aye. There isn’t much reason to delay the wedding. The families are ready, and we will start preparations as soon as we return home.”

Aerion supposed that Lorent was right. “Were you dancing with Lady Ashara Dayne last night? After she danced with Eddard Stark?”

Lorent’s eyes fell to the floor as he blushed. “Aye. I downed two cups of wine before I went and asked her. I couldn’t believe it when she agreed.”

Aerion smiled mischievously at his friend, “Lady Ashara is widely endorsed as the fairest maiden of all of the Seven Kingdoms. And she has shown you special attention.”

Lorent blushed even deeper and slowly shook his head. “I cannot even dream of it, Aerion. There are too many suitable matches better than me – Prince Oberyn Martell, one of the Starks, a Tyrell, Jaime Lannister, even Elbert Arryn.”

Aerion’s stomach tightened at the mention of Jaime Lannister. _Jaime wouldn’t be able to compete with you if he is named a Kingsguard._ He wore a weak smile when his thoughts jumped to Lord Tywin’s inevitable fury, “But no formal engagement for now, my friend. You can always win her heart before all others.”

Lorent returned a weak smile as well. The pair turned to the voices of Baelor and Terrence, who were returning from their search.

Aerion trusts Baelor and Terrence’s judgement. He purchased the recommended lance and shield without much thought and bid the guards and Terrence to take them to his tent by the jousting stands.

He still needed to meet with Lord Ryswell of the Rills, as the Ryswells are famed for their superior destrier breeds. He would need a new horse for the joust, as the one he rode from Stonedance is trained for speed but not for hauling heavy armor. He reached out to the northern lord per Terrence’s suggestion and Lord Ryswell had agreed to a deal. It would be four hundred Gold Dragons for the prized destrier, and Aerion can only hope that the horse survives through the tournament.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaime Lannister is a born warrior. The young man is only five and ten, and he is already taller than most young knights and probably stronger too – judging by the way he’s handling a hedge knight’s heavy longsword. His green eyes are inviting as he laughed and joked with other lords of the Riverlands and the Westerlands.

Aerion watched Jaime from the audience stands. The heir to Casterly Rock was not hard to find, with a proud golden lion embroidered on his breastplate. Aerion now sat with Baelor one box away from the royal box and watched other tourney guests as everyone waited for the tournament to officially begin. He had left the rest of the preparations – namely polishing his armor and checking his saddle – to Terrence.

It was still uncomfortable to watch the King make his announcement, even with Ser Barristan’s warning. It happened sooner than Aerion expected, and judging by Prince Rhaegar’s unconcealed shock, the King had hidden his intentions well.

Aerion felt for Jaime Lannister, who was both shocked and anxious after the King offered to raise him to the Kingsguard as the late Ser Harlan Grandison’s successor. In the flash of a moment, the young lord had to accept the King’s offer with grace and give up his claim to the wealthiest Kingdom of Westeros. Sure, being a member of the Kingsguard is an honorable and prestigious position, but it was hardly a decision to be made lightly by a boy who’s only almost a man.

Everything happened very fast. Commander Gerold Hightower produced a white cloak out of nowhere and draped it around Jaime, right then and there, in front of the gathered tourney guests. Jaime repeated after Ser Gerold to take his vows after several noble lords were asked to be witnesses. Soon enough, the newest and youngest member of the Kingsguard in the order’s history was made, and Ser Jaime stood, overwhelmed, as his new sworn brothers approached to congratulate him.

The crowds followed with loud and happy cheer. Ser Jaime will go down in history as one of the realm’s greatest knights, that was a given. The lords and ladies of the land were thrilled for the rare opportunity to watch history being made.

Aerion peered over to Rhaegar. The Dragon Prince was stepping down from the royal box to personally congratulate the new Kingsguard. Aerion could tell that Rhaegar donned a slight frown and had a reluctant smile.

The King surprised the crowd once more after the pleasantries were done. He all but barked at his new Kingsguard with a malicious smile at the corner of his lips. “Go on now, back to King’s Landing! You are to guard the Queen and Prince Viserys at the Red Keep.”

“Your grace, I…” Aerion knew that Jaime Lannister was planning to compete in the tournaments. It was hard to miss as his Lannister guards have been preparing his equipment and making bets on tournament victors ever since they arrived at Harrenhal.

But Jaime clearly hasn’t been around the King long enough to know that he should hold his tongue.

“You will do as I command!” The King spat harshly and glared at Jaime for any trace of disobedience.

“Yes, your grace.” Jaime didn’t hesitate. He turned around quickly and focused on departing as soon as he can. His new white cloak billowed at his steps.

The crowd was unsure of how to react, and many guests were murmuring amongst themselves. Prince Rhaegar cleared his throat and whispered something by his father’s ear.

The King waved lazily to Lord Whent, “Start the tournament.”

Lord Whent got up from his seat immediately, almost tripping over his robes. He walked closer to the royal box and signaled to the Harrenhal guards and servants. With the clearing of the melee fields and the jousting lanes. The Tourney at Harrenhal finally opened.

The first day of jousting mainly consisted of newly raised knights and second sons or cousins of lesser houses. It was their opportunity to make a name for themselves, but most were quickly defeated after one or two rounds.

The hours passed quickly with Aerion thinking about the implications of the King’s decision, and with Baelor yelling out in excitement whenever someone unhorsed another, or someone showed off a particularly gorgeous lance or helm.

Later on, when Aerion was up to face his jousting challenger, he walked by the royal box and purposely sought out Rhaegar.

The Prince was looking in his direction as well, and the two exchanged an apprehensive glance. There wasn’t much to be said. What is done is done, and the stubborn King will never release Jaime Lannister from his vows, no matter the objections from his Hand of the King. It was a stern message to Lord Tywin, one that risked bloodshed in the Seven Kingdoms.

Aerion sighed as Terrence helped him to his armor and new destrier. He climbed on top of his new mount gracefully, and rubbed the muscular destrier’s neck, trying to connect with the unfamiliar beast.

His opponent’s blazon is one that he didn’t recognize, probably newly conceived or that of a minor landed knight or lord.

Aerion pulled down the visor of his helm and grabbed his new lance and shield from a Stonedance guard. Terrence helped him straighten his cloak, which among his full costume, was the only piece that displayed his house’s banner. His ancestors’ three-headed dragon shined against its black field, only that the heads of the dragon were different colors, making the sigil more vibrant.

Aerion took a deep breath and waited for the signal to start. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baelor cheering loudly and the Grandisons and Rosbys joining him by his side.

He relied on the muscle memories from his prior training for the clash. It was over quickly, and he was only half-concentrated on his task at best. The tip of Aerion’s lance landed squarely on his opponent’s shoulder and knocked off the thin knight. The tournament master declared victory for Aerion and called up Aerion’s next challenger.

Aerion went through seven challengers before he was declared qualified for the advanced tilts that were to be held a few days later. He only had difficulty with the sixth and seventh opponents – and the challenge was more from how much he is out of practice than his strategy or skill. After all, he was introduced to jousting by Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold, and not many participants of the tournament can say the same.

His seventh opponent was unusually tough and built. Aerion tried for a few rounds to knock him off his ride, but the knight wouldn’t budge. Aerion finally found a moment of weakness and knocked down the knight’s shield, which luckily landed on his horse’s head and subsequently made the stallion throw his rider off. It wasn’t a traditional win, but it counted, nevertheless.

The tall and muscular knight approached Aerion after the round. He pulled off his helm and Aerion realized that he was one of Lord Walter Whent’s four sons. The younger Lord Whent smiled respectfully and waited for Aerion to climb off his horse. Then, he thanked Aerion for the round and congratulated him on his victory. Aerion smiled back. He appreciated the young lord’s courtesy.

Terrence was beaming about Aerion’s wins and came up right away to hold Aerion’s helm and lance. After placing down his worn shield, Aerion stripped out of his armor and put back a simple cloak for the rest of the evening. He left Terrence in the tent to organize his gear and check on the conditions of his armor, lance, and shield.

With that, Aerion was done with jousting until the advanced tilts. He was free to retire to the castle or spend more time in Harrentown. But he was interested in observing the other jousts and the melee. It was a prime opportunity to familiarize himself with the young and rising generation of Westeros’ nobility, almost a first gauge of the Westerosi political landscape for decades to come.

The jousting lanes were wrapping up for the day, and neither the Prince nor any of the Kingsguard had made an appearance today. Prince Rhaegar was conversing with his goodbrother, Oberyn Martell, and other Dornish nobles. Aerion decided that he could check in with the Prince sometime later.

A troupe of entertainers presented themselves to the King and the host, and Harrenhal servants began assembling a make-shift stage in front of the stands for their performance.

Aerion returned to where Baelor was sitting and tried to persuade Baelor to watch the melee – which is on a different field with another set of stands – with him.

Baelor didn’t seem interested, “But I want to stay for the mummer’s show!”

Aerion rolled his eyes, “It’s not like you haven’t watched mummer’s shows before. Come with me to watch the melee, I promise it will be worthwhile.”

Baelor shook his head, determined to stay exactly where he is.

Aerion signed and gave in. Baelor could stay and he would go by himself, it wasn’t a big deal. He was about to tell Ser Grant to watch Baelor in the meantime.

“My lord, would you mind if I join you?” Kaelyn Rosby looked at him and donned a gentle smile. Her twin, Kamden Rosby, was nowhere to be seen.

Aerion was surprised but quickly replied, “Of course, my lady. It will be my pleasure.”

Kaelyn’s smile deepened and she got up from her seat, two Rosby guards moved to follow far behind her.

Aerion politely smiled back at Kaelyn and called out to Ser Grant, “Ser Grant, see that my brother returns to the main castle after the show.”

With Ser Grant’s confirmation, Aerion and Kaelyn Rosby began to walk around the jousting lanes towards the bigger fields where the melee tournament was held.

“Where did your brother go?” Aerion broke the silence first.

“Tournaments never interested him,” Kaelyn grinned, “He came to watch your first few rounds and then left to explore Harrenhal’s libraries.”

“Ah, that is a good idea. Harrenhal’s collection is more extensive than even Riverrun.”

Kaelyn nodded in agreement and looked sideways to Aerion, “I should congratulate you, my lord, for your successful jousts.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Are you looking forward to the advanced tilts?”

Aerion shrugged, “I suppose I am. Though I usually don’t participate in these tournaments.”

“I could tell,” Kaelyn smiled and bit on her lip, “You almost looked annoyed when they brought up more challengers. Usually the jousting knights and lords relish their time on the lanes.”

“Hmmm.” Aerion wasn’t sure how to reply.

“Why?” Kaelyn clarified when Aerion looked confused, “Why don’t you like to participate in these festivities? You are a talented lancer, and you will probably rank well in the melee too.”

Aerion hesitated and thought back to his father and grandfather. “I guess … I don’t like to be the focus of attention.” That is true, even before Aerion got into a habit of keeping his head down both in and outside of court.

Kaelyn nodded in understanding. They have arrived by the melee fields and some teams were warming up with friendly duels.

Aerion scanned the stands and gestured towards two rows of empty seats that were close to them. “How about we watch from there, my lady?”

Kaelyn enthusiastically agreed.

The melee tournament was inevitably bloodier than the joust. There were always injuries and casualties from jousting, of course, but a frenzy of dozens of knights and fighters on the melee field was something else entirely.

The official rule was to make your opponent yield, and the defeated knight would be free to go. But the fighters at Harrenhal are stubborn, especially when they have friends or lovers or liege lords to impress.

A poor fellow had to get dragged off the field when he started bleeding from his head. Another lad’s leg got crushed into a mess of flesh by steel armor. Painful groans and battle cries filled the field.

Just at the right time, a Harrenhal servant came up to their row and served them glasses of wine. Perfect. Now Aerion felt like he was at the fighting pits of Meereen.

Aerion noticed that Kaelyn had her eyes fixed on the far-right corner of the field. “Are you here to watch someone in particular?”

“My cousin from my aunt is fighting for the Eyrie squadron.” Kaelyn pointed with her finger, “there, the one wearing a resting seagull on a bright yellow field.”

Aerion spotted the young man in question fairly quickly. There were only so many bright yellow fields on banners to begin with, and even though he cannot make out the seagull sigil from the distance, the individual was accompanied by House Waynwood and House Grafton banners. He had to be Kaelyn Rosby’s cousin.

“It looks like he’s doing well.” The young man is quick and nimble. He was successful at ducking from the attacks of a rival squadron and is now cornering a lone opponent with his teammates.

“Lewis used to squire for Lord Waynwood. He just earned his knighthood a few moons past fighting off the Mountain Clans in the Vale.”

Lewis’s group cleared most of their opponents around them and is advancing from the far corner towards the center of the field. Riverlands and Stormlands bannermen, who were defending the center are turning to meet the incoming threat while fighting off Dornish and Westerlands parties on their other side.

A very tall warrior who wore a beautiful antlered helmet noticed the Eyrie group as well. He was far from the standoff, but he threw his Dornish opponent recklessly on the ground and charged towards Lewis’s group with a bellowing battle cry.

He forced his way through the messy crowd of both allies and foes, essentially knocking everyone without a Stormlands banner to the side. Although he was as strong as a charging bull, his steps were graceful, and he could effortlessly handle multiple opponent at a time.

Aerion watched Lord Robert Baratheon’s battle lust and raw strength with appreciation. The Lord of Storm’s End looked unstoppable while the men who followed him all appeared exhilarated and driven, no doubt inspired by their leader. _Ours is the fury, indeed._

Lord Robert cut through half of the field with ease and engaged with the Eyrie squadron. He swung his war hammer high in the air and slammed the weight down on his opponents’ sword hand and armor. The charge itself was probably terrifying, with only a few knights skilled enough to duck out of the way or attempt at a defence posture.

Kaelyn grimaced when Robert Baratheon slammed his hammer at Lewis’s direction. Lewis tried to back away, but he was too late. The hammer’s blow made Lewis’s sword fly out of his grip. Lewis groaned out in pain for his wrist and fell to his knees. He yelled out to yield quickly after that.

Robert seemed satisfied. He did not spare a second glance at the beaten knight but continued his charge when some Riverlands knights ventured too close to him.

Lady Kaelyn looked concerned for her cousin, so Aerion spoke up, “My lady, your cousin’s armor took the brunt of the hit. He will be fine after a few days of rest.”

Kaelyn nodded, “I am glad that he yielded when he did. Lord Robert’s strength is impressive and unpredictable, and Lewis is certainly no match for that.”

“Lord Robert is an impressive warrior. His hammer might as well be part of him, the way he controls its power.”

Kaelyn pursed her lips, “I heard that the hammer had been Lord Robert’s weapon of choice ever since he entered the training yards as a child. He even threw a fit when his lord father sent him a longsword for his nameday while he was fostering in the Eyrie. Lord Robert had the sword sent back to the Stormlands the next day.”

Aerion chuckled in amusement, he had not heard that story before. “So the stories are true? About the Lord of Storm’s End’s quick temper?”

“The stories have merit. Lewis is from the Eyrie and House Rosby frequently trades with Houses in the Vale. Lord Robert’s reputation is well-known there.” Kaelyn grinned. “Aside from the spiked hammer though, Lord Robert always carries a smaller blade by his waist, it’s a gift from Lord Jon Arryn.”

“Is that so? I don’t see him reaching for it or using it ever.” Aerion frowned and observed the roaring fighter more closely.

“Apparently, Lord Robert swore that he won’t use it unless it’s a life or death situation. He despises sneak attacks and only fights honestly against his enemy.”

Aerion nodded, “That makes sense then, why he’s not reaching for it. The melee is hardly enough to pose any real harm, as gifted as he is.”

The two continued their discussion towards the other Stormlands and Riverlands warriors. As they got more comfortable with the conversation, Aerion was impressed with Lady Kaelyn’s knowledge and insight. She could always come up with an interesting background story about specific Houses and dissect the complex relationship between different factions and alliances.

Aerion kept up with her only because Maester Kelhmon insists on forcing the information upon him. The Maester is well-connected to many houses in the realm and regards intelligence as a powerful apparatus. Back at Stonedance, Aerion would spend a good portion of every day with Maester Kelhmon to hear about developments throughout the realm. The two would then try to predict if Stonedance or its closest allies would be impacted in any way. It is a tiring venture, to say the least.

“My lady, you have a remarkable talent for diplomacy. I have learned much from you today.” Aerion looked at her with a genuine smile.

"Thank you, my lord. And thank you for indulging me. Please forgive me if I’ve bothered you with too much court gossip and my own contemplation.”

“Not at all, Lady Kaelyn.” Aerion reassured her with a warm smile. “I’m only curious about how you became interested in the matters of court. Half of the heads of noble houses that I’ve met are not as motivated as you are.”

Lady Kaelyn looked a bit shy but held her smile. “It’s only my lord uncle, Kamden, and I back in Rosby. Uncle gives us plenty of freedom to do what we enjoy, and when I asked to listen in when he held court, he gave permission. I got more and more interested since then.”

“Lord Rosby is lucky to have you advise him.” Kaelyn’s analysis of different situations was sound and logical. She would be a helpful advisor or strategist at court.

Kaelyn’s cheeks showed a hint of a blush. “You are too kind, Lord Aerion.”

A blow of a horn interrupted what Aerion was about to say. The two melee spectators turned their attention back to the field and realized that only two squadrons were left – one representing the Stormlands and the other of the Eyrie.

The horn signaled the last standoff. Soon, the victor of the melee tournament would be determined.

“Lord Robert had the best chance of winning, but I think he’s tired himself out.” Kaelyn shook his head when Robert Baratheon stood in defence at the back of his group. He looked like he was recovering his strength before making a new charge.

“I agree. He is unfortunately outnumbered by the Eyrie as well.”

The Eyrie team rallied behind Yohn Royce, a tall and fierce warrior in his own right. They had more men left on the field than the Stormlands and followed a proper formation when they advanced. The Stormlands barely had enough members left to set up a defence.

After rounds and rounds of fighting, the fighters from both sides were no doubt exhausted. It only took a few duels and clashes before the Stormlands combatants yielded. Lord Yohn Royce helped Lord Robert get up and patted him in encouragement on the shoulder.

A Harrenhal tournament master declared victory for Yohn Royce and the Eyrie, and cheers erupted across the stands. Lord Jon Arryn even got up from his box to make his way to the fields – surely to congratulate both his bannermen and his foster son, Lord Robert Baratheon, on their excellent performance.

Lord Robert did not look too bothered by his defeat. He smiled brightly and laughed out loud with his companions and the men of the Vale.

Following Lord Jon Arryn, who has reached the center of the field, were Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Lyanna Stark. Aerion has only met the Stark siblings a handful of times and was not very familiar with them. Though, Lady Lyanna is even more beautiful since the last time they’ve met. No wonder Lord Rickard had a hard time picking among Lady Lyanna’s many suitors before deciding on the young Storm Lord.

The Stark siblings both wore a smile and chatted amiably with the Eyrie and Stormlands melee fighters. Lord Robert looked pleased that his betrothed watched his full tournament and flashed a wide smile at her.

Looking over to Kaelyn, Aerion noticed that her lips tugged into a playful smile.

“What’s so funny?” Aerion chuckled.

Kaelyn bit her lip as if deciding whether or not she should share. Eyes gleaming, she leaned closer to Aerion and spoke in a hushed voice. “Lewis told me that Lord Robert already has a bastard daughter in the Eyrie. He visits the babe and the mother fairly frequently.”

Aerion’s eyes widened a bit in surprise at the turn of the conversation. He laughed in amusement, “I suppose Lord Baratheon can be quite charming in front of women.”

Kaelyn continued, biting back her giggle, “Lady Lyanna learned about it a few days ago, when gossip went around before the tourney.”

Aerion raised an eyebrow at that. “And how did she react to the news?”

“She was angry and disappointed as any betrothed high-born Lady,” Kaelyn paused, “She did make an interesting proclamation about men and love, though.”

“Oh?” There was little reason why Aerion would be the one feeling more nervous discussing the love life of young lords and ladies, out of the two of them, but he is. Kaelyn did not seem embarrassed or shy to discuss the improper indulgences of noble lords.

“She said that many men cannot keep to one bed after marriage. That is their nature. And you shouldn’t believe anything otherwise when they declare their love for you.” Kaelyn looked back to the melee field.

Aerion was at a loss of what to say once more. Taking lovers and fathering bastard children was all too common among Westeros’ noble houses. He would barely bat an eye hearing these stories, though hearing about Robert Baratheon’s daughter was intriguing. Kaelyn’s openness about the issue surprised him – she has none of the reactions of a typical timid maiden from the songs.

“Lord Eddard was there when she said it. For a long time, he couldn’t come up with words to comfort his sister.” When Aerion didn’t respond, Kaelyn added softly, looking pensive.

Aerion swallowed. The melee field was slowly clearing out. Lord Jon Arryn was heading back to the castle with his Eyrie’s men. The Stark siblings were still chatting with Robert, with Robert’s eyes fixed on Lyanna and Lyanna tossing back her head in laughter of some joke.

He cleared his throat softly and suggested, “My lady, may I escort you back to Kingspyre Tower?” The day is growing dark and Kaelyn probably needed to return to the castle.

“I would appreciate that. Thank you, Lord Aerion.” She blinked and smiled at him.

They walked in comfortable silence back to the castle. Two Stonedance guards and two Rosby guards followed about twenty paces behind them.

They stopped at the second level staircase, where one side led to the East Wing where Aerion stayed, and one side led to the West Wing where House Rosby stayed.

Aerion wasn’t sure why he said what he said. But before Kaelyn Rosby turned to leave, he blurted out, “Lady Lyanna said ‘many men’.”

Kaelyn looked to him in surprise before a small smile perched on her lips. “She did.”

“Many men is not most men, it’s also not **_all_** men.”

Her smile deepened and she nodded. “You are right, my lord.”

Aerion smiled back at her. He dipped his head and took a step towards the direction of the East Wing, “Have a wonderful evening, my lady.”

“Thank you again, my lord.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aerion is fairly sure that it was treasonable to feel nothing but dread in the presence of his King. But overwhelming dread is precisely how he would describe his condition.

It was the day of the advanced tilts, and effectively the last day of the tournaments. In the morrow, there are only mummer’s shows and a grand feast to close the Tourney at Harrenhal.

He now sat in the royal box, Baelor on his side, because he was unfortunate enough to run into the King’s entourage in the courtyard earlier that day. The King’s eyes had narrowed on Baelor, probably out of surprise of how tall the child has gotten, before giving a bitter scoff at the brothers.

His grace then commanded Aerion and Baelor to join him in the royal box. Although spending more time with the King of the Seven Kingdoms was the last thing that Aerion wanted to do, he had to bow deeply at the honor of the invitation. The brothers then followed behind the Kingsguards to the royal box, where they have stayed ever since.

The King sat alone on the highest row of the royal box, with only Commander Gerold Hightower standing behind the King on guard. On a lower row sat Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia, Lady Ashara Dayne, who was the Princess’s lady-in-waiting, and Aerion and Baelor. Ser Barristan Selmy stood by Baelor in his post.

The last row had a handful of other nobles, namely Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, Lord Walter Whent, Lord Mace Tyrell and his son and heir, and Lord Jon Connington.

The mood in the royal box is an uneasy one. No one conversed, aside from light comments about the jousting rounds in front of them. The King rarely spoke and still securitized every bit of the scene before him. If something were of interest, he would whisper to Ser Hightower, and the Commander of the Kingsguard would nod in understanding.

The Prince looked eager for his turn on the jousting lanes. He would turn to Aerion from time to time and comment on a knight’s skill or armor. The Princess and Lady Ashara had their gaze fixed on the jousts and would look concerned whenever a participant got injured. That makes sense, since Prince Rhaegar will soon participate, as well as Lady Ashara’s brother, Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning.

Since Aerion’s time on the jousting lanes, there have been more qualifiers to the advanced tilts. While there were some dark horse participants from lesser houses, but the true celebrities of the joust have been Prince Rhaegar, Brandon Stark, and members of the Kingsguard.

In front of Aerion, Aerion realized that Brandon Stark, the heir to the North, had just defeated two jousting challengers and will be taking a short break to replace his chipped shield.

A knight from the Westerlands was called up, followed by Aerion’s own name. Everyone in the royal box looked to him, so he donned an excited smile and got up from his seat. Prince Rhaegar wished him luck, and the ladies gave gentle smiles of encouragement. Ser Barristan gave a slight nod. Lord Mace Tyrell looked kind, as did Prince Oberyn. The King grunted behind him.

Aerion returned Baelor’s squeeze of his hand, knowing that his brother was worried that he might get injured. He turned on his spot to bow at the King, in case the King wanted to say something.

A few seconds passed and the King said nothing. So, Aerion straightened and quickly walked down the stairs to join the tournament.

Ever the responsible squire, Terrence greeted Aerion at the entrance of his tent and started to tell Aerion about his opponent. Useful tips about the Westerlands knight’s signature moves and weaknesses were summarized, all from what Terrence had observed in the past few days.

Aerion got ready as quickly as he can and climbed on top of his horse. The destrier was fortunately not injured the last time Aerion jousted and has been taken care of quite well by Terrence. When Aerion rubbed his neck, the horse even neighed and tapped his hooves in anticipation.

Suddenly, looking at his energetic and grinning squire, Aerion was glad that he took Terrence Celtigar on. Terrence has been very helpful and has great potential.

Aerion accepted his helm and shield, and after pulling down the visor, he gripped his lance firmly in his hand. He rode to the starting position with the sun in his eyes.

The Westerlands knight had good skills, but he was nervous for such an important tournament. Aerion and the knight exchanged a few rounds, both opting to be more defensive than aggressive. Then, on the fifth round, Aerion’s opponent made a common mistake of leaning too far with his strike, so it took a gentle shove on the side of his waist to throw him off his mount.

The crowds cheered around Aerion as he slowed his horse. His next opponent was quickly announced. Ser Arthur Dayne, the deadliest Kingsguard and a formidable lancer.

Aerion smiled weakly in his helm. It’s for the best, he thought, he would be eliminated quickly and he could go back to Baelor. There was no way that he can defeat Ser Arthur no matter how hard he tried.

He nodded at Terrence when he rode by. The beaming squire helped him straighten his cloak, smoothing out the Stonedance three-headed dragon that got folded in the wind. _Hopefully, Ser Arthur remembers that I’m still a member of the royal family, however an extended member, and thus make an effort to not gravely injure me._ Aerion held on to that thought as he charged towards his opponent.

It only took three rounds for Ser Arthur to push through his defence. When Aerion got tipped over on his ride, as he expected would happen, he realized that Ser Arthur did not put too much weight behind the strike. He fell in his armor but was unharmed. The Kingsguard knight even walked over to help him up as quickly as he could.

The two lancers pulled their helms back and exchanged a smile. “Thank you, Ser Arthur.”

“Lord Aerion, I hope you are not harmed.” Ser Arthur is Prince Rhaegar’s good friend, so Aerion knew the knight well. The renowned Ser was glancing at him up and down.

Aerion shook his head. “I am perfectly fine.”

“I think Lord Baelor is concerned for you.” Aerion followed his outstretched arm and saw Baelor standing on his seat, trying to catch a better view of the jousting lane.

Aerion chuckled, “I should head back before he comes down here. Let’s catch up later, Ser Arthur.”

The Kingsguard nodded in agreement and put back his helm. The tournament master was announcing the next line up.

Aerion was relieved that the tournament was over for him. He just wanted to watch the tournament in peace. Or, to escape the royal box with Baelor and head for freedom in the castle or in Harrentown.

There was no more use for his equipment and tent, so Aerion bid Terrence to pack everything with other guards in preparation for their journey home. His squire was nervous that Aerion might be disappointed in his defeat and said little the entire time.

Aerion patted Terrence on the shoulder and smiled kindly at the boy, “You did well helping me with the tournament. Thank you.”

Terrence grinned with a hint of a blush from the compliment. “Thank you, my lord.”

Aerion watched Terrence hover over his helm and shield to resume his work, visibly more upbeat than before. He smiled to himself and exited his tent.

Back in the royal box, Prince Rhaegar had been called to the jousting lanes. Princess Elia and Lady Ashara smiled to welcome him back.

Ser Barristan smirked, “You could have blocked that strike if you rode faster.”

Aerion shrugged, “Ser Arthur is too fast. I am no match for him.”

Lady Ashara smiled kindly, “My brother has been practicing for a few moons almost every day with the Prince. It was hardly an even match.”

Aerion knew that she was helping him feel better, “I appreciate that, my lady.” Princess Elia grinned at him from her seat.

The jousts resumed below the stands. Prince Rhaegar was facing Lord Brandon Stark and the two exchanged a few rounds to test each other’s jousting styles. Then, Rhaegar’s movements turned quick and aggressive. He unhorsed Brandon Stark in one smooth hit. The crowd cheered for their Crown Prince.

After Brandon Stark, he defeated two more challengers with ease. When he then rode against Ser Arthur Dayne, the audience held a collective breath to see who would emerge victoriously. Ser Arthur didn’t make it easier for his liege, but only limited his strikes towards Rhaegar’s shoulders and arms, where the Prince would not be badly hurt.

But Rhaegar was unstoppable. He rode with a special determination that Aerion has never seen before, with each of his hits landing with remarkable accuracy. Before long, Ser Arthur got shoved off of his horse, and it was another win for the Crown Prince.

It was time for the final tilt with Ser Barristan being the only challenger left. The older knight excused himself from the glowering King and stepped down the stairs.

“Who do you think will win?” Baelor asked quietly.

“I think Prince Rhaegar.” Lady Ashara did not look bothered by her brother’s loss. She leaned forward for a better view of the lanes in excitement.

“Prince Rhaegar has been great today. He has a good chance.” Aerion agreed.

Princess Elia looked unsure, “Ser Barristan taught Rhaegar everything he knows. He also has a lot more experience.”

Lady Ashara smirked at her Princess, “Either way, you will be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty. The Prince will surely crown you, and Ser Barristan is sworn to you.”

Princess Elia blushed and fidgeted with the corners of her silk dress. Oberyn turned back from a lower row at Lady Ashara’s words and smirked playfully at his sister as well.

Ser Barristan donned his jousting armor and weapons while they spoke. His white armor and cloak shined against the sun, and his plain shield is polished and flawless.

The final blow of the horn signaled the tilt to begin. The two contestants sped up their horses as the audience braced themselves for a grand clash.

Aerion could tell that Rhaegar took a risk. The first few back and forth helped each participant gauge the agility and strength of their opponent, but Rhaegar skipped over those preparations. Instead, the Prince delivered a powerful blow as Ser Barristan sped by.

The tip of Rhaegar’s lance hit above Ser Barristan’s shield and on the knight’s chest. As soon as it landed, the Prince gave a forceful shove. It caught the Kingsguard by surprise and made him lose his balance. To everyone’s astonishment, Ser Barristan fell from his ride several paces after the exchange.

Prince Rhaegar’s triumph came faster than anyone would have guessed. The audience descended into loud and joyful cheer as the Prince slowed his horse.

Lord Whent ushered his servants to produce the crown of winter roses. With a wide smile, he sped towards Prince Rhaegar to congratulate him on winning the tournament.

“Here he comes!” The crowd was still cheering and celebrating the Prince’s achievement. Lady Ashara nudged Princess Elia and bounced on her seat. The Princess looked nervous and kept on smoothing over her dress in anticipation.

Aerion watched the Prince balance the crown of winter roses with the tip of his lance. He seemed satisfied when the crown did not fall when he urged his horse to go forward. He made his way to the audience stands. Silence quickly replaced the crowd’s roars and shouts when the Prince rode past the royal box without hesitation. Princess Elia and Lady Ashara both drew a sharp intake of breath, dumbfounded. Prince Oberyn stood up in a heartbeat, clearly insulted and confused by the Prince’s action.

Before the crowd or any particular spectator can react further, the Prince came to a gentle stop in front of a stand occupied by the Northern Houses. Gracefully, he tipped his lance and laid the laurel in Lady Lyanna Stark’s lap. He gave the stunned lady a polite smile.

Like Aerion, the crowd is still trying to process what happened. The only sound on the jousting lanes and stands were the clops of the Prince’s horse.

Behind Aerion, the King gave a sickening snicker in amusement.


	5. The Kingsroad

**Chapter 5: The Kingsroad**

**_Harrenhal, Riverlands, 281 AC_ **

Moving out of Harrenhal was more chaotic than moving in. Before the tourney, different nobles and their household have arrived on different days, and there was some semblance of planning and order.

After the tourney closed, however, it seemed like everyone was in a rush to head home all at once. Aerion can’t blame the lords and knights, though. The general mood at the tourney took a serious plunge after the Crown Prince’s crowning of Lady Lyanna Stark, and any sensible lord and lady wanted to get away from the brewing turmoil and uncertainty.

Lord Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, was the first to announce his household’s plan for departure. He had barely waited until the end of the closing feast to ask permission to take his leave from the King. His official reasoning was that there was news from the Wall, and he is needed back in the North. He rode out right after the King’s approval with his siblings and retinue, not bothering to wait for daylight.

Lord Robert Baratheon and some of the Stormlands Houses followed closely behind. He also asked permission from the King at the end of the feast and returned to their chambers the rest of the night to pack up. The Storm lords’ parties rode out at first light the next morning.

After the departure of two great houses, the other guests to Harrenhal wanted to leave too, as soon as possible. And it has been chaotic on the castle grounds ever since.

Aerion was about to slip away with the Stonedance party too – he had instructed Ser Grant to get his men and belongings ready – if not for Prince Rhaegar’s message. The Dragon Prince sent one of his aides to inform Aerion that the Stonedance group is expected to accompany the King’s procession along the Kingsroad, citing practicality that they were heading in the same direction.

Aerion had sighed deeply when the aide finished relaying the message. He couldn’t understand the Prince’s insistence, but the message was clearly more of a command than an invitation.

And so, Aerion stayed put for further instructions. The King’s full entourage would take days and days to organize, and there was little to do other than to wait.

Aerion saw Lord Grandison’s party off the day after the closing feast. The Grandisons had a wedding to arrange and were anxious to get back. Aerion promised Lorent and Lady Everly that he would attend the upcoming wedding and wished them a smooth journey.

Lord Celtigar also dropped by before riding out. The Lord of Claw Isle looked both proud of his son and also sad to be apart from Terrence. The father and son conversed quietly with mainly the lord giving advice and Terrence nodding in understanding. When he finished with his son, Lord Alton thanked Aerion for everything and led his household away from Harrenhal castle.

The Rosbys were not as rushed to leave as most noble houses. They planned well before the tourney to visit their House Hogg cousins at Sow’s Horn, which was only a few days’ ride from Harrenhal. They ended up moving out six days after the closing feast.

After the Rosbys had left, Aerion was growing impatient, and so was Baelor. But they could not influence the King’s schedule. Baelor started to spend his days in the Harrenhal libraries, and Aerion used his time to seek out Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur for dueling practice.

The King finally announced the plan for his departure almost a fortnight after the closing feast. Judging by the reaction at supper, Lord Whent of Harrenhal was probably the most relieved, followed closely by Aerion himself.

On the day of the scheduled departure, getting into formation and loading everyone’s belonging onto carriages took most of the day. By the time the procession set out in the late afternoon, Aerion was mentally and physically exhausted. Despite his irritation, he allowed a small smile to himself. He was finally closer to home.

The King’s procession moved slow for good reason. The entourage cannot travel during the evening and nights, for the royal family’s safety. Scouts are sent out in every direction, and every disturbance or suspicious camping activity in a radius of half of a day’s ride is thoroughly investigated by guards.

In addition, the King enjoys his travels from his royal carriage. If he wanted to stop for the day, the procession would stop immediately and make camp. The group would only continue their journey if the King felt it appropriate the next morning.

Today was one of those days in which the King abruptly ordered the procession to stop and make camp. It was just past midday, so it was beyond Aerion why they had to stop when they did.

He sighed to himself and bid Ser Grant to settle his retinue in camp. He was about to climb off his horse when a chivalry guard approached him. “The Prince requests your presence, my lord.”

Aerion was a bit surprised but nodded, “I’ll come now.”

The guard nodded back and turned back. Aerion straightened himself on his destrier – the same one from the joust, as his new horse was more powerful than his older horse from Stonedance – and followed.

Prince Rhaegar wore a light chainmail armor with a crimson undershirt. He was strapping a sheathed dagger to his waist when Aerion arrived. “Aerion! Good for you to come. Join me on a hunt?” He gestured towards a patch of forest a few hills away.

“Of course, your grace. Though I would need to fetch my dagger and proper boots.”

“That’s not worth riding back to your camp. Here, use my extras.” The Prince waved and a guard produced a beautiful dagger and sheath on a tray. Another guard ran over hugging a pair of leather boots.

Aerion thanked the Prince and accepted the dagger and boots. He already wore a boiled leather coat, which was practical for hunting.

They rode out with a handful of Targaryen guards and Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. Aerion and Prince Rhaegar led in the very front, followed by the Kingsguard, and the bigger unit of guards far behind.

Aerion hasn’t gotten an appropriate opportunity to discuss the tourney with the Crown Prince so far. It is because Prince Rhaegar has been busy meeting with different nobles as tourney guests were leaving, and then organizing the royal retinue for departure. The Prince’s reluctance to explain, as he heard from Lady Ashara, probably played a part to delay the conversation as well.

Aerion felt that he needed to understand why the Prince did what he did though. The crowning of Lady Lyanna has been scandalous and has unsettled both the North and the Stormlands. He would support Rhaegar regardless of the Prince’s reasons, of course, but Aerion wanted to know Rhaegar’s perspective.

Before Aerion came up with something to break into the topic, Rhaegar spoke up. “We received a rider this morning from King’s Landing. Lord Tywin is seeking a resignation as the Hand of the King.”

“Oh.” Aerion frowned, “Just a resignation? He didn’t demand Ser Jaime to be released from his vows?” Surely the Lord of Casterly Rock would react more aggressively now that he is without his healthy son and heir.

“Oddly, no. His messenger just says that Lord Tywin is eager to return to Casterly Rock to administer the Westerlands in the Crown’s name.”

Aerion might have believed that if it were ten years ago, when the head of the House Lannister was still faithful to the King. Although Lord Tywin has not done anything treacherous, Aerion could feel that the former best friend to King Aerys II had little respect left for his monarch. Not that the King had any respect left for Lord Tywin in return.

“What was his grace’s reply?”

Rhaegar shook his head in slight frustration, “My father was expecting this. He laughed at the messenger and called Lord Tywin a wimp, among other nastier things.”

The Crown Prince sighed, no doubt thinking back to the scene from earlier in the morning. “That was the King’s way of accepting the resignation. He also commanded Lord Tywin and his entire household to leave King’s Landing before the royal procession gets back.”

Aerion thought about the issue, “Lord Tywin’s departure is not ideal, but Ser Jaime is effectively a ward of the Crown. Lord Tywin will not risk his son’s life and do something rash.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I don’t doubt Lord Tywin’s judgment. I don’t know Ser Jaime very well, but I intend to speak to him candidly when we get back. If he wishes to be released from his Kingsguard vows, I will try to get the King to reward that to him, somehow. Or, if Jaime is willing to wait, I can grant him his release when I am crowned.”

Aerion admired the Prince’s thoughtfulness. “I think that is wise, your grace. It will help us win back some favor from the Westerlands.”

“We do need more favor and support from the different regions and Great Houses, don’t we? After I crowned Lyanna?” Rhaegar laughed jokingly.

“Your grace, I did want to ask about the tourney,” Aerion can see that Rhaegar is not taking the topic about the tourney seriously. “Why did you crown Lady Lyanna?”

Rhaegar looked up to Aerion’s eyes with a smirk, “Before you suggest that I dishonored my wife, Lady Lyanna and I are **_not_** having an affair.”

“I understand. Lady Lyanna looked as surprised as everyone else when it happened.”

“So why a scandal? I was merely paying a compliment to her. If I recall properly, her betrothed even said that he agreed with my choice for the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Aerion shook his head, “My Prince, you know it is more complicated than that. The Starks and the Baratheons were deeply offended, remember how they left Harrenhal the first chance they had?”

Rhaegar shrugged. “They are overreacting, really. I had the idea right after the final tilt. I didn’t think it through.”

Aerion narrowed his eyes. He was fairly sure that Rhaegar is feeding him with rehearsed answers and is avoiding his true motivations. “Rhaegar, in all honesty though, you can’t have **_not_** considered the consequences of your decision. What are you hoping to gain from Lady Lyanna? Even though you are married, and she is betrothed?”

Aerion’s question hung in the air for a moment as Rhaegar concentrated his gaze on a deer’s tracks. Rhaegar stared at the ground for some more time and took a deep breath. “Aerion, I am not hoping to do anything. The North and the Stormlands will get over their childish tantrums, and the realm will be fine.”

“And what of Dorne? Princess Elia must not have been happy, and Prince Oberyn looked like he was ready to challenge you to a duel. The Crown’s alliance with Dorne is too important to be tainted by an impulsive gesture.”

“Princess Elia is fine. I have explained everything to her. She’s even helping me explain to Oberyn. We will not lose Dorne.” Rhaegar countered calmly.

“But why take the risk? Harrenhal gathered more guests than any other tourney in a generation. It was a public embarrassment for three of the Great Houses – they control more than half of the realm!” Aerion winced as he raised his voice higher than he had intended and probably sounded too accusatory. He immediately regretted his complaint.

The hunting party is making their way through the outskirts of the forest into thicker woods, with the Targaryen cousins leading well ahead. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell were out of earshot to make out any words, but looked concerned that Aerion and the Crown Prince were in a heated conversation, complete with frowns and hushed growls.

“Enough, Aerion.” The Prince huffed in exasperation and hardened in his tone, “I have explained my reasoning and you will trust my words.”

“Yes, your grace, of course.” Aerion was frustrated at himself for losing his temper. Prince Rhaegar was not ignorant or senseless. He probably knows what’s for the best.

 _Damn it_. The hunting trip is throwing Aerion off. He is used to maintaining his agreeableness and indifference in court, but being alone with Rhaegar and seeing Rhaegar trust his advice regarding Lord Tywin has made him careless. _The Lords of Stonedance are supposed to be detached from the affairs of the realm._

Aerion promised himself to worry less about all of it. Rhaegar is probably right, the Great Houses will get over the quarrel soon enough – they have tolerated worse from the Targaryens over the centuries. 

They followed the tracks of the deer for a while. It led them to a small stream, where they found more animal tracks to choose from. Ser Barristan recommended the Prince to follow the fresh tracks of a wild boar, and the Dragon Prince agreed.

Aerion quietly followed behind Prince Rhaegar. He kept an eye out for any signs of wild turkey or hares, so the guards behind them can capture some game with bow and arrow.

“I want you and Baelor to be in King’s Landing when Princess Elia’s child comes.” Prince Rhaegar’s words interrupted Aerion’s watch.

Aerion returned a smile, “Of course, we are both excited for the new Prince or Princess.”

Prince Rhaegar looked more cheerful, “Thank you. She is due in about one moon after we get back. You two can stay in the Red Keep until then. It will be good for Baelor to explore the capital, and you can help the council find another Hand of the King.”

Aerion smiled, “Yes, your grace.” He had expected to be there for the Prince and Princess’s new babe, but he did not expect to stay in King’s Landing to wait. But that matters little now, he and Baelor will have to find things to do in the capital.

Aerion thought more about that. He will need to arrange lodging for most of his retinue, since only his closest attendants will be permitted to stay in the Red Keep.

Rhaegar looked up to the sky with a curious expression on his face. He spoke softly, but his words are clear. “Elia will give me a son, I am almost sure of it.”

Aerion looked to the Prince in mild surprise. He waited as the Prince continued.

“I will know more when the babe comes. But I can feel it. This babe is the future of our dynasty.” Rhaegar’s eyes are bright when he met Aerion’s matching violet eyes.

Aerion could only nod, he was unsure of what to say.

“I’ll tell you, after the babe comes. Then you will understand everything.”

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The royal procession approached King’s landing at dusk. A smoky haze loomed over the city of half a million, and pockets of torchlight were already lit up for the nearing darkness.

The stench of the City was as strong as Aerion had remembered it since his last visit. Informal shacks and make-shift camps filled the expanse outside of the City’s walls. The City was bustling and noisy, as residents were settling into their evening routines and seeking entertainment towards the capital’s taverns, spectating arenas, whorehouses, and markets.

They finally arrived. The procession was on the Kingsroad for the better part of a fortnight. Prince Rhaegar has assured Aerion that it was already a fast trip by the King’s standards, but with the time, Aerion could have comfortably returned to Stonedance and came back to the capital to meet the party. Or, Aerion could have reached Moat Cailin in the North, with a fast horse.

Aerion sighed from his horse in relief. At least they would settle in tonight and get some good rest. Baelor was riding his white horse from Lorent Grandison, which has grown considerably since before the tourney.

The King still stayed in his royal carriage. The Prince and Princess were in their own carriage with Prince Lewyn Martell on guard. Only Aerion, Baelor, and Ser Barristan rode with the cavalrymen.

The Dragon Gate opened both of its heavy gateways for the royal procession. Targaryen banners flew proudly from the City walls as crowds of smallfolk stopped in their tasks to watch the procession in hushed voices. Gold cloaks of the City Watch worked to clear a path to the Red Keep, and pushed onlookers to the sides of the streets.

It was a fine opportunity to survey the City, Aerion thought. He and Baelor’s last visit was for the birth of Princess Rhaenys, a few weeks short of a year ago. This time, they had enough time to explore and learn about the developments in the capital.


	6. King's Landing

**Author's Note:**

Thank you for your favorites and follows!

I originally planned to have just one chapter set in King’s Landing, but it looks like chapter 7 will also take place in the capital. I wanted to describe some of the key characters a bit more in the AU.

Let me know what you think in the reviews! Is the story going too fast / too slow?

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**Chapter 6: King’s Landing**

**_King’s Landing, Crownlands, 281 AC_ **

Aerion’s favorite place in all of King’s Landing is the Great Hall of the Red Keep. On the day of the King’s formal audience, he was standing in a quiet corner of the dimly lit Hall, far from the dais. Nobles and knights were pouring in through the oak-and-bronze doors, anxious to answer to their temperamental King.

The audience was mainly for the capital’s affairs, like procuring arms for the City Watch, and securing supplies of grains and fresh produce from surrounding holdings. Aerion didn’t have a need to attend, since Stonedance was not on the agenda of discussion, but both Rhaegar and Ser Barristan were attending, and he had to walk over with them.

Once they were inside, Aerion found a far corner to observe the proceedings, while the Dragon Prince and Kingsguard took their places by the King Aerys II. Instead of making small talk with the knights around him, he looked above his head to the massive dragon skulls that adorned the walls.

Aerion realized that he couldn’t care less about the Great Hall and the imposing Iron Throne. _I like it here because of the dragon skulls._ The dragon skulls attract him to spend time in the Great Hall whenever he visited the Red Keep. The dragon skulls invite him to dream of the past when true dragons roamed the skies.

His gaze followed the line of skulls to the front of the Great Hall, where the darkened skulls of Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes were displayed. They are massive, and their jaws can swallow a full-grown man in one bite. They were befitting a mighty King and his sister Queens who founded the most powerful dynasty in Westerosi history.

King Aerys II’s formal audience dragged on. Some lords and knights took their leave, walking by Aerion to exit when their business was done. New noblemen piled in to fill their place, each with urgent questions to present to the Crown Prince and the King.

Aerion shifted his gaze towards the dais to check on Prince Rhaegar. The Crown Prince donned a serious frown as he conversed with Lord Jon Connington. The King sat with a slight crouch on the throne, not leaning against the sides or the back. _The rumors may be true, then. One can easily cut themselves from the throne’s jagged edges._

Aerion continued his quiet pondering from his corner. He didn’t have much to do anyway, so spending his afternoon at the formal audience was not completely wasteful.

As the hours drew out, Aerion leaned against a column and thought about his own garrison at Stonedance. The castle is heavily fortified, but not impenetrable. The last time the castle trained and stocked up for a potential siege was during Lord Daeron’s time, after the passing of Lord Maegor. With what happened at the tourney and the rising uncertainty at court, maybe it was a good time to revisit defence protocols back home.

The oak-and-bronze doors swung open to a fresh-looking Ser Jaime Lannister. The former heir to Casterly Rock dressed in an all-white armor, his custom bright lion embroidery gone from his breastplate. He walked quickly to the front of the Hall and exchanged a nod with Ser Barristan Selmy. Ser Barristan handed over his spot by the throne to the younger Kingsguard and headed towards the exit for his break.

Aerion observed the young Kingsguard. He had heard that Ser Jaime returned to King’s Landing a mere four days after he was commanded to do so. Both the speed of his arrival and his appointment have surprised the Queen and the royal household. Witnesses told Aerion that Lord Tywin almost lost his temper at the Small Council meeting upon seeing his eldest son and heir in all-white. The stern lord later retired to the Tower of the Hand and did not leave his residence for days, most likely to re-examine his plans for House Lannister and the future of the Westerlands.

Before Lord Tywin left the capital for his resignation, he had sought out Ser Jaime for a lengthy private audience. No one knows what was discussed between the father and son, but it might have helped Ser Jaime transition into his new role. It might also explain the courtly smile that has been plastered on the young knight’s face day and night.

Ser Jaime looked perfectly polite in front of his King and the lords of the land. He did not show any extra emotion when the King addressed representatives from the West, nothing that indicated an inherent ambition to someday rule the Westerlands as he was born to do. Aerion wondered if Prince Rhaegar had spoken with Ser Jaime about his Kingsguard membership, as the Prince suggested that he would do.

An irritated grunt brought silence over the Great Hall. To Aerion’s surprise, the formal audience seemed to be finished as the King is climbing down from his throne. Everyone near the dais dipped their head in respect as they watched the King exit the Hall through a smaller door in the back.

After the King’s exit, Prince Rhaegar was immediately surrounded by noblemen who were scrambling to get a royal decree. Apparently, the King had left out of boredom of deciding on small matters and did not give everyone a chance to present their case. It was up to Rhaegar to hear the issues that were left and resolving them.

Aerion felt for Rhaegar. The Crown Prince is used to working hard to administer court affairs, but his workload had effectively doubled in the last weeks. Without Lord Tywin at court, every important matter moved to the Prince and the Prince is nearly overwhelmed and exhausted.

Working hard for the stability of the realm is a noble mission. But the Prince walks a fine line between keeping the realm together and outshining his father and King.

A plump figure dressed in rich silks blocked most of Aerion’s line of sight. Aerion snapped out of his stare of the Dragon Prince and met Lord Varys’ eyes.

“My lord, good to see you.” Aerion flashed a polite smile.

“Lord Aerion.” The Master of Whisperers smiled back, “I am heading to the Chief Gaoler’s chambers to discuss new recruits for the Wall, will you be so kind as to walk with me?”

“Sure,” Aerion stepped to the side so Lord Varys can lead the way, “After you, my lord.”

Lord Varys thanked him and the two walked abreast towards the castle courtyards. They walked by numerous exiting lords and knights who were at the audience, and royal household servants who were rushing between their errands.

Aerion’s acquaintanceship with the Master of Whisperers is an odd one. When Lord Varys first came to court, Aerion had thought of the man as squeamish and meddlesome. It had annoyed Aerion, when Lord Varys seemed to be holding everyone’s secrets against them and orchestrating backroom trades to move his game pieces along.

Lord Varys made an enduring effort to be friendly with Aerion, but Aerion was always reserved and preferred to ask back questions rather than answer any that came his way. Answering inquiries with only more questions worked wonders to kill the conversation, Aerion had learned. All in all, Aerion could not decide if Lord Varys can be trusted – he is of Essos, after all, and he doesn’t seem to have a weakness, which is inherently suspicious.

However, Aerion’s hesitancy did not discourage Lord Varys. Lord Varys greeted Aerion with a bright smile every time they’ve seen each other and began corresponding with the Lord of Stonedance with raven messages.

The Master of Whisperers would share something intriguing that happened at court, something not even Maester Kelhmon’s contacts have heard of, and add some of his own thoughts at the end of the correspondence.

Slowly, as more messages came in, Aerion would reply once in a while to comment on Lord Varys’ previous messages as a reply. After two years or so, Aerion is used to receiving updates about King’s Landing from the omniscient spy master.

Now, Aerion allows himself to trust most of the information, but still prioritizes caution when dealing with The Spider – you never know how Lord Varys decides what to tell you and what to keep from you.

Aerion and Lord Varys were walking through the gardens outside of the Godswood. The Tower of the Hand stood on the other side of the garden, with the new Hand of the King’s household moving in and out with trunks of luggage.

The newly appointed Lord Hand, Lord Owen Merryweather of Longtable, was still in the process of moving in. The aged lord and his immediate family were in the capital at his appointment, but the rest of his household and retinue had to make their journey from the heart of the Reach.

“Lord Aerion, how is your impression of Lord Merryweather?” Lord Varys waited until the two were strolling through the middle of the garden, and well out of earshot of guards and servants. 

Aerion thought for a second, “The Lord Hand is approachable and friendly.”

“Yes, quite the opposite to the last Lord Hand.” Lord Varys smirked slightly, “My little birds whisper to me that Lord Merryweather is moving his entire household and the majority of his belongings to his Tower, leaving his family seat with little but a bare keep.”

“Oh? It sounds like he is quite fond of living exactly how he did back in the Reach, if he is tugging everything along to his post.”

“It also sounds like Lord Merryweather plans to stay.” Varys raised an eyebrow, “Lord Tywin governed for almost twenty years, and our new Hand aspires to surpass that record.”

“Should he not be planning to stay?” Aerion knew that Lord Merryweather was a hasty appointment. The older lord has no real talent other than lavishing praise upon the King. The King probably knew that too, and naming the Lord of Longtable served more to unnerve Lord Tywin than to benefit the realm.

Lord Varys smiled. “To serve the Crown, you will need both competence and loyalty. In my experience, it is hard to stay for long if you lack either of those attributes.”

Aerion chuckled, “That sounds straightforward, competence and loyalty.”

Lord Vary donned a small smile but shook his head, “Lord Aerion, I guarantee you, half of the important somebodies in this keep cannot pass my test if it were up to me.”

Aerion returned a polite smile, not quite wanting to comment on the politics of the Red Keep in front of the spy master. “Well, we cannot have as stringent of standards as yours, Lord Varys, or we would be tiring you out running the Small Council by yourself.”

Lord Varys blinked in surprise at Aerion’s words and let out a hearty laugh, “Lord Aerion, I am in no way praising myself; I just worry that some of our fellow noblemen and officeholders are serving second masters behind his grace.”

Aerion paused and saw a speck of genuine worry on Lord Varys’ expression. For once, The Spider might not be speaking in prose and misleading whoever that is in front of him. “And you, Lord Varys? Do you serve a second master?”

Lord Varys’ tone was sincere, and his gaze was intense, “I wholeheartedly serve the realm, Lord Aerion. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

Varys’ declaration hung in the air for a few minutes as they walked through the garden and into the busy courtyard. The Chief Gaoler’s quarters were in sight after they turned a corner.

“Lord Varys, I did enjoy our walk. I wish you a pleasant rest of the day.” Aerion smiled at the older lord.

“Lord Aerion, thank you for accompanying me.” Lord Varys pulled out a scroll from his robes, probably for his upcoming talk with the Chief Gaoler, “Please don’t hesitate to send for me if I can ever be of help.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Aerion nodded and watched Lord Varys head towards his meeting.

Turning around, Aerion noticed one of his Stonedance guards rushing towards him from the direction where he came from. Aerion stepped forward to meet the younger man and allowed the guard to catch his breath.

“My lord, there was a rider for you with a message. Ser Grant didn’t know if it was urgent, so he sent me as quickly as possible.” The guard pulled a folded note with a thin seal atop.

Holding the note, it was simple white parchment with no markings or sigil. Breaking the thin wax seal easily, Aerion read two lines of messy scribble.

_Mother’s on Silk for Renata. Come at first chance and arrange trustworthy men to wait nearby._

The note is short and to the point. Aerion shook his head in amusement, his friend always found the most nonsensical places to meet.

He crumbled the note and dropped it in his inner pocket and looked to his guard, “Tell Ser Grant to grab two of his best men and meet me at the gates of the Red Keep.”

“Aye, my lord.” The guard dipped his head and hurried away.

The note is no doubt from Ser Jason Hyde, his friend who serves the High Septon. Aerion couldn’t tell why Ser Jason sent for him, since the two have just met a few days past and nothing of import was brought up. Aerion trusted that Ser Jason would not disturb him for just anything, so it was probably wise to go at once.

Aerion remembered that he probably should bring some kind of weapon, given how the note stressed to bring guards with him. But his attendant was already halfway across the garden grounds and it was too late to bid Ser Grant to bring him his sword.

Aerion unfastened his coat and searched around his waist. Relieve rushed through him as he felt the hilt of a smaller dagger that he usually carried with his cloak.

He had to double check because technically, Aerion was not allowed to bring weapons of any kind to the King’s formal audience. But the rule is rarely followed by the more powerful nobles – high lords favored more personal protection and the Kingsguard could easily defeat an assailant with their powerful longswords anyway.

Aerion was glad that he forgot about the dagger when he followed the Prince and Ser Barristan to the Great Hall, he is lucky to have a weapon on him to go out to the City.

He made his way through the training yards of the Red Keep and waited by the gates. It was just a few minutes until Ser Grant emerged from across the yard, flanked by two guards, all wearing lightweight padded armor.

The small group exited the fortified Red Keep and stalked down the ramp towards the City. Aerion didn’t mention their destination, so the men followed their lord dutifully through the busy blocks and districts of the capital.

Ser Grant’s neutral expression turned into an uncomfortable one when Aerion turned onto the Street of Silk. The street was narrower than the other main streets of the City, and instead of merchant stalls and open-door storefronts, every establishment’s doors are ajar with a veil of thin silk blocking passerby’s glimpse into the scenes inside.

Beautiful young girls leaned suggestively by the entrance of the brothels and giggled amongst themselves in conversation. When young knights and noblemen walked by, they flashed warm smiles and winked at blushing youngsters.

Aerion was busy looking for Mother’s. He knew where the famous Chataya’s brothel is, but he had no idea which section of the street housed Mother’s. The brothels on the Street of Silk, of which there were many, all look similar in style. Aerion was squinting to make out the titles of each house as they walked by.

He half-turned to his group, “Help me look for Mother’s.” He had to raise his voice a bit over the music from vielles and harps.

Ser Grant was probably wondering why Aerion needed to bring guards to visit such places, and what Aerion could possibly have them do. He cleared his throat and repeated his lord’s command to the two other guards behind him. “Look for Mother’s.”

The four went on their way. They walked slower than most guests, since most guests had specific destinations in mind, and paid more attention to the signs of each brothel than the half-naked girls on the street side.

They finally found the quaint little establishment just after some length of search. Aerion glanced around and there was a small tavern on an extended road across the street.

Aerion turned to his men. “Wait for me at that tavern and keep an eye for the door when I come out. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Ser Grant looked like he wanted to say something more, but thought better of it. “Aye, my lord. We’ll be here … for as long as you need.”

Aerion’s eyes lit in amusement as he considered what Ser Grant was trying to say. Deciding to keep them in suspense for a while longer, he nodded at his men and pushed through the half-open doors of Mother’s.

He was immediately greeted by two lovely girls, one on each side, who are trying to grab on to his elbows. The brothel keeper approached him with a wide smile and ushered him in.

He rescued his arms from the girls’ embraces and greeted the brothel keeper, a mid-aged woman in thick velvets with a heavily powered face.

He smiled, “I am here to see Renata.”

The brothel keeper straightened and smiled back, “Excellent choice, mi’lord. Renata is just upstairs, follow me.” She waved at the greeting girls by Aerion’s sides away.

Aerion followed the woman upstairs while he took in his surroundings. The brothel was quite busy, with the large foyer used for performances and for guests and prostitutes to mingle. The second and third floors are private bedchambers and probably more intimate dining and drinking areas.

He followed the brothel keeper, _the Mother_ , into a secluded hallway with only one door. They came to a stop in front of it.

The Mother smiled at him, “Here you are mi’lord. Send a servant if you need anything.”

Aerion nodded at her and turned the metallic handle to enter the room.

There weren’t any girls in the chamber. The décor in the chamber was relaxing and served a seductive nature. A large featherbed was the centerpiece of the room, along with an adjacent privy chamber. The curtains by the window were shut and blocked out most of the sunlight, making the chamber dimmer than usual.

Two men were at a small round table in the corner of the room, leaving a single chair for Aerion to join them.

Aerion smiled at Ser Jason, who stood from his chair and greeted Aerion. Ser Jason is of average height and looked thinner than most knights. He had rich golden-brown hair and showed a shy smile – looking more like a scholar than a knight. His appearance is unassuming, as no one would equate the genial man to one of the strongest fighters who guarded the High Septon.

Turning to the second man in the room, Aerion did not recognize him. He was a small and aging man. He had beady eyes and looked like he had a hunch back.

Ser Jason spoke up as Aerion studied the man, “This is Wisdom Pollitor of the Alchemists’ Guild.”

Aerion frowned, since he never interacted with the Alchemists’ Guild. He nodded at Pollitor in greeting.

Jason continued, “Wisdom Pollitor and I have known each other since I started serving the High Septon. The Wisdom mainly helps to train apprentices in the guild.”

Aerion nodded again, still unsure how he or Stonedance would fit in to whatever issue that was at hand.

Ser Jason looked over to the Wisdom, who kept his gaze on the table with a grave expression. “Pollitor recently discovered some sensitive information in the guild, and he fears that his life is in danger. He asks for a safe voyage out of the capital and a place to hide, at least for a little while.”

Aerion frowned deeper. The Alchemists’ Guild is an ancient order of pyromancers, as the Order of Maesters is made up of scholars and healers. He had never heard about serious infighting within the guilds that would lead to the murder of a fellow member.

“My lord, I would ask you to hear him out.” Ser Jason held a sympathetic gaze to the Wisdom and sought Aerion’s eyes. “The Wisdom has helped me in King’s Landing in the past, and I hope that you would be willing to help sneak him out.”

Aerion turned his full attention to Pollitor, who worked up the courage to look up to Aerion with some hope in his eyes.

“My lord,” Pollitor exhaled deeply and started, “I overheard a conversation just this morning between Grand Master Rossart and Wisdom Garigus. They are the most powerful Wisdoms and have been running the guild for a decade. They were discussing moving a stash of _the substance_ into the Red Keep, and something about using fire as the King’s justice.”

The older man looked troubled, “They didn’t mention what amount they planned to move, but we have a full four hundred jars under the Dragon Pit, that’s enough to burn the Red Keep and two blocks around it for a fortnight!”

Aerion leaned into the table, concerned about the information. “Under whose orders? The Red Keep is hard to get in for a stranger, never mind moving in _wildfire_.”

Pollitor shook his head, “I work with apprentices and occasionally help with making the substance. I don’t know much else that goes on.”

Aerion considered why the Red Keep would ever need wildfire. The stuff can burn on any surface and is highly explosive. Having even a jar of it close to the royal household seemed like an insane idea.

Pollitor continued, “I tried to leave as soon as I’ve heard enough, but Rossart and Garigus walked out from the back door and bumped straight into me. I came up with a poor excuse and rushed away, but they definitely suspect that their secret is lost to me.”

“Pollitor came to find me at the Great Sept, by a secret entrance that we always used. I took him to my quarters and sent my men to check on the Guildhall. It was barricaded and it looked like the acolytes were under orders to search the place. I hid him in a group of Septons out of the Sept and brought him here, where we wouldn’t be discovered.” Ser Jason added.

Ser Jason looked to his friend, “Aerion, I can vouch that Pollitor is a good man. He is passionate about his trade and knows full well the dangers of wildfire. I hope you would be willing to smuggle him out of the City and even allow him to stay for a while at Stonedance.”

Aerion considered Ser Jason’s request and looked over to the fearful Wisdom. It was a risk to take in a stranger, but he appreciated that Pollitor was forthcoming with his findings. Any plan involving wildfire was disturbing, and Aerion would need to investigate the matter to protect the royal household. 

“I trust you, Jason.” He nodded slowly and looked to the Wisdom, “You are welcome to stay at Stonedance if you intend to go in hiding. I will arrange for you to be smuggled out of King’s Landing.”

The Wisdom was immediately relieved and thanked Aerion profusely.

Ser Jason looked relieved too, “I really appreciate your help, Aerion. I wouldn’t know who else to turn to.”

Aerion smiled reassuringly, “Staying at Stonedance is not a big deal. The information about moving wildfire is critical, and I am glad I learned of it.”

Ser Jason grunted, “It is crazy that someone would want wildfire in the Red Keep, I wonder if the King knows of this.” He shook his head, “Anyway, the Mother knows to keep this meeting discreet. We will follow your instructions, Aerion.”

Aerion thought about a plan. “I do have some men outside, but not enough for a safe escort. I’ll make further arrangements, and the Wisdom can be on his way after nightfall.”


	7. The Sign of a Bleeding Star

**Chapter 7: The Sign of a Bleeding Star**

_**King's Landing, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

Princess Rhaenys' second nameday was a joyous affair. It was four days ago, and a grand feast was held in the Red Keep. The Crownlands' noble houses all made an appearance to celebrate the occasion, and each of the other Kingdoms sent representatives to lavish the infant Princess with gifts and blessings.

The Princess was adored by the realm. She was sweet and loved to smile. After her nameday, she seemed bigger and better-behaved too, as she sat quietly in her father's lap throughout the feast and did not fuss or make a mess of her dress in front of the guests.

Aerion enjoyed spending time with little Rhaenys. He never had a sister or a close cousin who is a girl. Her charming smiles could lift Aerion's spirits and put him in a better mood for the rest of the day.

So, he would volunteer to hold her whenever the royal family gathered to dine, before her wet-nurse and maids snatched her away. Apparently, the presence of a sweet and smiling toddler was not to the liking of the King, even if it was his own granddaughter.

Like any other night, Aerion was sitting with most of the royal household to dine. The King retired to his chambers in the middle of the meal, and the Queen took her dinner in her chambers, like most days.

Hence, it left just Rhaegar, a heavily pregnant Princess Elia, Aerion, Baelor, and Viserys.

While Aerion held great affection for the Princess, the same could not be said for Prince Viserys. The Prince is still a child, of course, but there was some quality about the young boy that doesn't sit well with Aerion. Aerion could only pray to the Seven that the young Prince grows up to be more like the Crown Prince – more compassionate and even-tempered.

Aerion's wishes didn't look very promising as Prince Viserys swore and cursed bitterly at the dinner table. The Prince did not dare to do anything when the King was here, and only descended into his fit afterwards.

The story was simple, in truth. Earlier in the day, Prince Viserys tripped and fell on his hands and knees in the training yard. He was training with padded wooden swords with a servant boy who was his age, and since both boys were huffing and puffing from the physical exertion, the servant boy did not hear the Prince's call to yield, and smacked hard on Viserys' side and knocked him to the floor.

To everyone at the scene, including the Master-at-Arms, it had been an honest mistake by the servant boy. Aerion heard that the servant boy had immediately knelt by his Prince after the accident and was frightened to tears.

But to Viserys, it was an insult to his honor and his royal blood. In tears himself, the young Prince commanded his personal guards to seize the servant boy and whip him as his punishment. Ser Willem Darry, the Master-at-Arms, tried to plead with Prince Viserys but failed. Upon Viserys' insistence, the servant boy, a boy of six, received ten full-forced whips from a royal guard.

Still, that was not enough to ease the young Prince's anger. He spat out the story during dinner and was still cursing awful things involving the severely injured servant boy.

Aerion did not try to reason with Prince Viserys. Prince Rhaegar hasn't said anything yet, and it was hardly his place to lecture Viserys before his trueborn brother.

Aerion grimaced when Prince Viserys' curses turned louder and crueler, but he focused his eyes on Baelor.

His brother carried the burden of spending more time with the Prince than anyone else at the table, due to their similar ages. At his seat, Baelor almost buried himself in his plate and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

Since the Stonedance household settled in the Red Keep, it was fun for Viserys to have an older cousin show him new playthings and games, but Aerion knew that Baelor was miserable in their stay. Baelor was counting the days until Princess Elia delivers her babe, and hence they could finally head home.

Rhaegar looked tired of Viserys' mindless complaints. He rubbed his temple and spoke in a harsh tone, "Enough! You are a _Prince_ , start acting like one!"

Prince Viserys turned to his older brother, "Rhaegar, you're not hearing me! That imbecile attacked me!"

"For the last time, it was an accident between children." Rhaegar sighed deeply, and Princess Elia reached out to soothe her husband's back.

"He dared to harm a dragon! I should have him _burned_!" The last word was spat with such malice and resentment that Aerion glanced up at the fuming Prince.

Prince Rhaegar's reply was lost to Aerion's ears.

 _Burned._ It reminded him of Wisdom Pollitor's words about wildfire. After two weeks of investigation – not that he could search the Red Keep properly or question potential conspirators – Aerion had learned nothing new. It was frustrating, and he wanted to resolve the issue before leaving for Stonedance.

At least Wisdom Pollitor was safe. A small party – two Stonedance guards and three King's Landing gang smugglers – had snuck the Wisdom out of the City through the Mud Gate. They hired a small fishing boat on the Blackwater Rush and sailed for Stonedance in the thick cover of darkness.

Aerion received a raven from Maester Kelhmon confirming the party's arrival, and how he paid the hired folks a generous sack of Gold Dragons after they vowed to keep their mission a secret.

A sharp _clink_ pulled Aerion's attention back to the dinner table. Princess Elia's cutlery dropped to her ceramic plate when she clasped her hands to her swollen belly. She took a sharp breath in pain and looked to Prince Rhaegar in panic.

The Dragon Prince dropped his lecture of Viserys immediately. He stood quickly and hovered over his wife. "Is it the babe? Can you stand?"

Princess Elia was already sweating from her forehead. She nodded weakly at her husband and struggled to stand up, with Rhaegar supporting her back.

Seeing that the babe might be arriving, Aerion got up from his seat to alert the servants and maids. Baelor looked up with a concerned gaze and moved to help Prince Rhaegar.

Servants and maids poured in at once to attend to the Princess. Rhaegar called for a servant to alert the Grand Maester and the King and Queen, and for maids to prop Elia to a nearby bedchamber.

Viserys looked hopelessly lost at the scene before him. Donning a friendly smile, Aerion patted on the boy's shoulder and softly suggested, "My Prince, we don't have much to do other than to wait. Why don't you retire to your chambers for the night? You can see the new babe first thing on the morrow."

Viserys looked at his older brother, who was helping his wife walk out of the dining room to the hall, and to the servants who were busy clearing the table. He nodded without complaint.

Aerion was relieved. He waved over a pair of guards to escort the petulant Prince back to his chambers.

Baelor was following behind Rhaegar to exit the room, so Aerion strode over and pulled on his sleeve. "Are you sure you want to go? It will be a long night; it might be better if you returned to your chamber."

Baelor shook his head. "I want to wait outside with all of you, is that okay?"

Aerion held his brother's gaze, "Of course it's okay. But if you are staying, you won't run at the Princess's screams, will you? I'm warning you now that the birthing chamber is not a pretty place."

"I won't, I promise. I just want to be there when the babe comes."

Aerion nodded at his brother, "Let's go see if we can be of help."

A small crowd already gathered in the hallway. The Princess was settled in a nearby bedchamber with maids hurrying in and out with basins of water and clean cloth.

Shortly, Grand Maester Pycelle and other attendants arrived. They barely had enough time to catch their breaths before they were ushered in by the Dragon Prince to check on the Princess. The door to the bedchamber closed with a bang, which left Aerion and Baelor, along with several servants, to wait outside.

The heavy doors blocked whatever conversation that was being held inside with only murmurs and mumbles drifting out by the walls.

A set of hurried footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway and Prince Lewyn Martell appeared around the corner, sweat on his forehead and temples. "How is the Princess?" He rasped.

Aerion gave the Kingsguard and uncle of the Princess a reassuring smile, "They just settled her in, the Grand Maester is with them. We will know more when he finishes his examination."

The dark-haired Prince nodded and seemed calmer since no screams of pain were heard from the bedchamber. He wiped at the sweat on the sides of his head and found a spot in the hallway to wait, his eyes trained on the chamber doors.

Lady Ashara Dayne, the Princess's lady-in-waiting, was the next to arrive with two new midwives and their assistants behind her. "My lords, Prince Lewyn," She greeted the trio in the hallway with a worried frown.

Aerion repeated what he had said to Prince Lewyn and assured the two Dornish nobles that nothing had induced Elia's labor like a fall or an upset stomach. The birthing pains had come naturally during dinner.

Lady Ashara nodded in understanding, "I should be in there with Princess Elia." She looked to the heavy doors and debated whether she should interrupt the Grand Maester and the Prince who were inside.

Prince Lewyn was about to say something when the door gently opened, revealing a calm Grand Maester and the Dragon Prince. Some servants followed them out, letting the group of midwives and maids in the hallway take their places inside the chamber.

The Grand Maester looked confident, which brought a wave of relief to everyone. He spoke softly, "Everything looks fine. The Princess's pains are regular and controlled, and if the Gods are good, the birth should be a smooth one."

Prince Rhaegar looked worried but optimistic, "Elia had difficulties when Rhaenys was born, but she has more experience this time and we are better prepared."

Grand Maester Pycelle gave a small smile in agreement, "Exactly, your grace. The babe will arrive tonight, or in the morning the latest. I've also gathered the best midwives in King's Landing to attend to the Princess as they are more knowledgeable in their trade than I am."

Lady Ashara looked to the Prince, "Your grace, I should be by the Princess's side."

Rhaegar nodded and held the door for her, "Thank you for all your help, my lady." Lady Ashara gave a small smile and entered the birthing chamber.

The men are left to wait in the hallway. Prince Lewyn asked for more details from the Maester, while Prince Rhaegar and Aerion stood opposite the chamber doors with Baelor listening.

"How is the Princess feeling?" Aerion asked the Dragon Prince. Rhaegar shifted his weight from one foot to the other and was staring at the bedchamber doors.

"Elia is nervous. She has good reason to be, since she had to recover for almost half a year after Rheanys, but she is holding on well for now."

Aerion considered that. "The Grand Maester and the midwives seem confident. We can trust that they know best."

Rhaegar nodded but went to pace back and forth in the hallway. He ran his hand through his silver hair and glanced at the bedchamber doors every once in a while.

Aerion and Baelor did not want to get in the way or distract the Prince, so the brothers opted to stand quietly. The Grand Maester finished his report to the Kingsguard, and after checking that Rhaegar had no more questions, he re-entered the bedchambers.

A long moment passed while the chamber doors remained closed. No groans or cries of pain could be heard from the hallway, which Aerion took as a good sign that the situation was stable.

Later, a large group of servants and guards turned around the corner, accompanying the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The Queen is tall and bore the classic Valyrian traits for her hair and eyes. She nodded at everyone and spoke to Rhaegar with an apologetic look, "The King expects the babe to be presented to him on the morrow."

"Of course, mother," Rhaegar did not look surprised or disappointed that his father is not there for the birth of his grandchild. "Thank you for coming."

The Queen patted on her son's hand. "I prayed for Elia and her child." She gave her son a small smile and followed Rhaegar to stare at the birthing chamber doors.

Aerion noticed that two stern Septas with sturdy, muscular physiques followed quietly behind the Queen. They now stood on either side of Queen Rhaella and bore passive expressions on their faces.

Aerion had heard about how the Queen is almost a prisoner in her own castle, that the King had required two Septas to monitor the Queen wherever she went, even to bed.

Aerion wondered if the Queen protested the absurd arrangement, but then again, Queen Rhaella was used to taking her husband's abuse in silence after more than twenty years of marriage.

King Aerys II was domineering and cruel to his subjects. To his Queen, he enjoyed total control and continuously reminded his sister and wife that it is her duty to do whatever she is told.

Time in the hallway passed in silence. Rhaegar started to pace up and down the hall once more and the Queen moved to a window and folded her hands on the stool to pray.

Aerion was looking down, fixing his gaze on the hallway's stone tiles, while Baelor sat cross-legged against the wall. Prince Lewyn stood like a stone statue, passing the time by staring at the pommel of his sword.

Slowly, cries of pain and hushed voices came from inside the chamber. The door is still closed, and no servant emerged to give the group outside an update.

Rhaegar took deep breaths and fisted his hands. He wanted to rush inside but it was hardly proper for him to be in the birthing chamber. The Queen closed her eyes and focused more on her prayers.

Hurried footsteps could be heard from inside the chamber, as well as passionate debates between female voices – probably between the midwives that the Grand Maester hired. Princess Elia's cries became louder, though almost drowned out by equally loud voices that encouraged her to push and to breathe.

Baelor's face got pale and looked horrified at the chamber doors. Aerion grimaced and wondered if he made a mistake allowing Baelor to wait with them.

Aerion was about to kneel down beside his brother and suggest that he return to his chambers when the birthing chamber doors opened with a loud bang. Aerion glanced behind him and as soon as he realized what it was, he lowered his body in front of Baelor to block most of the boy's view.

"Look at me." Aerion held Baelor's gaze while four or five maids carried full water basins – red with blood – out of the birthing chamber. There was a panicked yell for the servants to fetch more clean water.

Baelor shuddered and looked more worried than ever.

Prince Rhaegar smashed his fist into the chamber doors in frustration. Though, he did not yell for the Grand Maester or any of the midwives, fearing that he will distract them.

After what felt like forever, Princess Elia gave a final, desperate shriek, and the world fell into silence again. The group in the hallway collectively held their breath before a faint infant's cry sounded from the birthing chamber.

Aerion's racing heart slowed. He smiled brightly to Baelor, who also realized what happened, and helped Baelor up from his seated position.

Rhaegar wiped his face and wore a relieved smile. "Mother!"

Queen Rhaella still had her eyes closed but she was smiling in relief. She finished the last words of her prayer and looked over to her son. "The Gods are kind. Congratulations, my son."

Aerion, Prince Lewyn, and Baelor all congratulated the Crown Prince for his new child. The mood was instantly lighter in the hallway and the waiting party all had their eyes trained on the chamber door.

Before long, Grand Maester Pycelle emerged from the chamber with a bright smile, "Your grace, you have a son!" He held a small bundle in his arms and presented it to Rhaegar, before turning back to the room, "I will check on the Princess."

The Prince nodded in understanding and looked through the open chamber doors to his wife. Princess Elia was surrounded by maids who were helping her clean up. He looked worried for his wife and held the babe closer to his chest.

Aerion was happy for his cousin. He walked over to see the newborn, who has yet to open his eyes. Soft curls of silver sat on his head as the babe drifted to sleep.

The Queen and Prince Lewyn took their turns next, and Prince Rhaegar even lowered the babe for Baelor to see. The Queen traced the babe's cheeks lovingly, she looked genuinely happy for the first time since Aerion's arrival to King's Landing.

She whispered, "He is beautiful."

Prince Rhaegar hummed in agreement and carefully tightened the blanket around his son's small frame. He looked at the babe as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

* * *

Prince Aegon Targaryen is ten days old. There was a new heir to the Iron Throne, a healthy and strong babe, too. The King looked pleased when he saw his grandson's silvery hair and dark blue eyes that were almost purple. The babe finally looked more like a Targaryen than a Martell, unlike Princess Rhaenys.

The Dragon Prince was overjoyed. He bought out most of the alehouses and taverns in the capital for a week, so noblemen and smallfolk alike can toast to his son's health and celebrate unreservedly.

The Red Keep overflowed with guests and envoys. Delegations from as far as the Free Cities have been arriving to congratulate the royal family. Guests were invited to admire the newborn in the Great Hall, where the Crown Prince sat on the dais and cradled his son on a chair.

The nobles would always say the same two things – the babe is beautiful, and that Aegon is the perfect name for a future King.

Aerion accompanied the Prince Rhaegar to the morning audience today. The Crown Prince only received visitors in the morning, and at midday, he would retire to the royal nursery with Aegon and head to his own quarters to check on Princess Elia.

Standing a few paces to the side of the seated Princes, Aerion smiled fondly at the newborn Prince. Aegon is a quiet and good babe, and still spent most of his day sleeping. His parents have worried that he would react poorly to his wet-nurse and nanny, but the little Prince has gotten along with his caregivers effortlessly.

Prince Rhaegar thanked each and every lord and lady for their blessings. He smiled brightly when they complicated his son's looks or his temperament.

Soon, the last of the nobles for the day were ushered out of the Great Hall to allow Prince Aegon to rest. Rhaegar shifted his son from his lap to his shoulder and carefully got up from his chair. Aegon was still sleeping, unaffected by his surroundings.

Exchanging a small nod with Aerion, the Crown Prince carried his son to return to the nursery. Aerion followed behind them, as did Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent.

The nursery was close to Rhaegar's quarters and next to Princess Rhaenys' nursery. It was designed by Princess Elia herself and beautifully decorated.

Rhaegar gently placed his son in his crib and dismissed the Kingsguards. Aerion chose from a full chest of infant toys and pillows and placed a stuffed rabbit by Aegon's head.

The cousins observed the sleeping babe from each side of his cradle.

After some pause, Rhaegar cleared his throat and spoke quietly, "The birth was dangerous for Princess Elia, she lost a lot of blood and Maester Pycelle have been giving her the milk of the poppy so she can rest."

After the babe came, the Maester and his army of midwives were busy tending to the Princess the rest of the evening. They agreed that the Princess almost hemorrhaged into unconsciousness and will be weak for a long time.

Aerion looked up to Rhaegar and waited for him to continue.

"She will recover, in time, but Aegon will be her last. She cannot carry another child."

Aerion swallowed and thought about how much the Princess loved children, "I am sorry, Rhaegar."

Rhaegar looked sad and slowly shook his head. "I am grateful to her. She gave me a son and heir." He rubbed Aegon's tiny hand with his thumb.

Aerion smiled, "Aegon is strong and healthy. He will make both of you proud."

"Aerion," Prince Rhaegar's gaze turned serious and stared into Aerion's eyes, "Aegon is the Prince that was promised, born to a bleeding star."

"What?" Aerion knew that growing up, Rhaegar had thought himself to be "the Prince that was promised", since Rhaegar was born in Summerhall while the palace burned. Maester Aemon, their "Uncle Maester" had proposed the theory, saying that the great fire and the tears of those who cried at the scene matched the ancient prophecy's call for "salt and smoke" at the birth of the world's savior.

"I'll never forget that night. A red comet, bleeding on its tail, hung above King's Landing for an entire night." Rhaegar looked determined and a certain shine toned his eyes.

As Rhaegar continued, Aerion stared down at the babe to check if the babe showed special powers or was any different from a normal babe. But Aegon did not display anything out of the ordinary.

"Aegon was conceived that night, the red comet was his herald." Rhaegar spoke in a stronger voice when Aerion raised his eyebrow and looked unconvinced.

"Rhaegar, many babes around the Crownlands could have been conceived that night. From any castle or keep or farm as long as they could make sighting of the comet."

"No. The Aegon is the prophesized Prince. I had a dream – or vision – I am not sure, later that night. I saw a handsome Targaryen Prince, standing proudly on a vast field. At the wave of his arm, a great black-scaled dragon flew over in the sky. The dragon's wings were so large that his shadow dimmed the entire field."

Aerion blinked as he was surprised to hear that Rhaegar had visions. Were his visions similar to the ones that his father, Lord Daeron, had? "Are you sure it was a true vision? Like when Daenys the Dreamer foresaw the Doom of Valyria?"

"I can't say. It was my first vision. I've had powerful dreams before, but my vision was something else. I was truly at the scene instead of a mere spectator, I could feel the wind blowing on my cheeks."

Aerion narrowed his eyes as he took in the Crown Prince in front of him. Rhaegar still spoke in a low voice, to not wake the babe, but his tone was unmistakably serious and passionate.

"That's why I was certain that the new babe will be a boy. He is the Prince that will bring back dragons for our dynasty. He will be a greater King than even Aegon the Conqueror." Rhaegar looked down at his son, who shifted in his sleep.

"Rhaegar, many of our ancestors had visions. I would advise you to be cautious before you trust its meaning."

"Yes, many did have visions that turned out to be faulty. But mine was more than clear. I might not be the Prince that was promised, but my son is." Rhaegar looked convinced, and a proud smile appeared at his lips. "I will find him what he needs, the third head of the dragon."

Now, Aerion was a bit lost, "What do you mean?"

"The dragon has three heads, there must be one more." Rhaegar looked to Aerion's eyes and willed him to understand.

"… You are talking about another sibling for Aegon?"

Rhaegar nodded, though he wore a slight frown, "He has a Rhaenys, and will need a Visenya. Together, they will change the course of history for the better."

"But the Princess…" Aerion thought it was best to object to the issue of Aegon taking sister wives on a later date. Something else was more pressing. "Princess Elia cannot carry another child."

"Princess Elia's condition is regrettable." Rhaegar nodded in agreement before shaking his head, "But it is the Gods' will. Aegon will have his Visenya, because I will make sure of it."

Aerion stared blankly at Rhaegar's words, bewildered. "Another child will be a bastard, who can't possibly have a place at court."

Rhaegar shook his head. "Aegon cannot marry a bastard. Visenya will be my trueborn daughter, for I will marry the mother."

"No sane Septon will agree to put aside your marriage like that. The King will be appalled." Aerion paled after another thought hit him, "And Dorne! Dorne will resent you."

"I haven't decided … either putting aside Princess Elia or taking a second wife." Rhaegar pursed his lips in thought.

Aerion glared at the Crown Prince, "Again, no Septon will agree to perform the ceremony to wed a _second wife_."

Rhaegar didn't answer as he stared at his son's crib in thought.

Aerion softened his tone, trying to talk some sense into his cousin and Prince, "Rhaegar, I beseech you to reconsider. You might even be right, about him being the Prince that was promised. But, Aegon will be a great King with or without a Visenya."

Rhaegar still didn't respond and frowned deeper in his contemplation.

"Please, Rhaegar. The realm is fragile as it is. Raise your son to be a good King, and our dynasty will prosper under his reign."

Aerion spoke softly and followed Rhaegar's gaze down into the crib, where Aegon slept sweetly, oblivious to the conversation around him.


	8. The Wolf Maid

**Author's Note:**

Thank you all for reading! I really appreciate your kind reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Wolf Maid**

_**Stonedance, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

_It was good to be home_. Whenever Aerion walked into the Great Hall of Stonedance castle, or laid down on his own bed, or strolled across the castle courtyard, he thanked the Seven that he and Baelor were home at last.

Aerion shouldn't still be feeling anxious. After all, he and Baelor have been home for almost three moons. They left the capital on the same day the Crown Prince and his household sailed for his seat of Dragonstone. By then, Prince Aegon was over a month old and strong enough to travel by boat.

Rhaegar had explained that it was more comfortable for the children and Princess Elia to be on Dragonstone than in the Red Keep, and Aerion fully agreed with him.

At their departure, the King received them in the Great Hall and had dismissed them with an annoyed wave of his hand. The Queen escorted the households to the gates of the Red Keep and hugged Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon tightly before seeing her grandchildren off. She even gave Baelor and Aerion a small smile when they rode out on their horses.

While Prince Rhaegar and his family sailed northeast on the royal fleet, Aerion and Baelor climbed onto a large sailboat bearing Stonedance banners that the castellan had sent. Baelor was immediately more relaxed when the sailboat pulled from King's Landing's docks and went on to play in the captain's scholar like any other boy of his age.

On his trip home, Aerion had tried not to think about the two looming problems that he could not solve. The first being the wildfire plot in the Red Keep, and the second being Rhaegar's deep-rooted belief that it is Aegon's destiny to have two sister wives.

For the first problem, Aerion's influence in the Red Keep was too minor to yield any concrete findings. After much debate, he decided to leak the concern to Lord Varys – not directly, of course, but through Varys' little birds who will undoubtedly bring the matter to their master. Aerion hoped that Lord Varys would have better luck digging deeper into the issue or raise it to the King or Rhaegar if needed.

As for the second problem, Aerion was worried about what the Crown Prince is planning to do. After their talk in the nursey, the Prince has been silent and only nodded to Aerion when Aerion tried to talk him out of his fantasies. Before the two went separate ways, Aerion asked Rhaegar to promise to think everything through before taking any action – to which Rhaegar swiftly promised with a confident smile.

Aerion had counted on Rhaegar's promise to calm his anxiousness, but it did not. Aerion still worried about any rash decisions that Rhaegar might make and whether it will lead to another crisis for the realm.

Thus, since Aerion and Baelor have been back, Aerion had focused on stockpiling provisions, arms, and household supplies for Stonedance.

Uncertainty was rising at court, and the least that he could do is prepare his men and his castle. He also worked hard to settle affairs concerning the holding and his bannermen, which have been on hold since he left for Harrenhal.

In the last month, Ser Wilfred was deemed stable enough for Maester Kelhmon to address his charred arm. The limb was effectively useless from above the elbow and the putrid flesh is a threat for further infection and swelling. The Maester fed the knight a full dose of the milk of the poppy and amputated Ser Wilfred's sword arm.

Now, Ser Wilfred was recovering from his operation and have been frustrated that he could never properly wield a sword again.

Aerion tried to reassure the loyal Ser that there were plenty of ways to help in the castle, if he was willing. For instance, Aerion would be thrilled if Ser Wilfred was willing to help train the garrison or manage the armory.

Enhanced training for the garrison was a top priority, which is why Aerion joined Xorru, Ser Grant, and another landed knight in the training fields outside of the castle to observe the session. His Master-at-Arms and captain of the guards were responsible for training the full garrison of almost twelve hundred men.

Traditionally, Stondance has prioritized archery and crossbow training, which are useful defences. During Lord Maegor's time, the lord thought to take advantage of the nearby Kingswood and cross-train his garrison to be cavalry crossbowmen – a rare specialization for a Westerosi fighting force, but deadly and formidable if used well.

Lord Maegor's efforts had paid off, as his private legion built a formidable reputation while fighting off smaller rebellions for King Jaehaerys II. As a reward, the King issued a royal decree that allowed Stonedance to maintain a relatively large garrison, a raise from eight hundred men to twelve hundred. The King also gifted Lord Maegor a herd of battle horses from the Vale and the North, which helped build the Stonedance's current herd.

Aerion was confident in his legion's crossbow skills and riding skills. Which is why Xorru has been tasked with enhancing the garrison's close combat skills in the past few moons.

Close combat is useful to hold off an invasion, as well as when a soldier's horse dies, or the enemy advances too close during a battle. Aerion worried that his garrison was too out of practice for close combat and sword fighting than the other noble houses.

"Ser Holme, do you think our training is missing any important drills?" Aerion asked for the landed knight's opinion.

Before Ser Holme was granted lands near Stonedance and became Aerion's vassal, he served as the Master-at-Arms for House Stokeworth. The infantry garrison of House Stokeworth is known to be quite competent, so Aerion invited the knight to improve upon the training at Stonedance.

Ser Holme scratched his temple. He has been watching the training for the entire morning and has been advising Xorru with his ideas. "My lord, I think more practice in group melee will be helpful. The men could learn how to help each other and coordinate their efforts."

Aerion looked to Xorru, who knitted his brow in thought. "Xorru?"

"Aye, my lord. I think Ser Holme makes a good point. I'll divide the men into groups of twenty and they can practice with each other. I can plan it this week and start the training after."

Aerion nodded. "I want to arm garrison as best as I can too. Do you have any suggestions on the men's armor or weapons, Ser Holme?"

Ser Holme hummed in thought and picked up an extra sword that the fighters were equipped with from a bench. He turned the weapon in his grip and tested the weight.

"Your cavalry crossbow legion carries a crossbow, arrows, and a standard infantry longsword each – but the sword is seldom used. I would advise changing to lighter swords that are shorter too. For more flexibility from the horse."

Aerion took over the offered sword from Ser Holme and tested it himself. He agreed, "That's a good idea, Ser. I will see if we can procure lighter swords for the garrison. Somewhere from the Reach, perhaps?"

Aerion passed the weapon to Xorru for his examination. Narrowing his eyes, the Master-at-Arms tried to remember, "My lord, there is magister in Myr that sells excellent swords adapted from Dothraki arakhs, I saw sellswords wielding it a few years past and they would work well for the garrison.

Aerion nodded. Xorru is quite knowledgeable about weapons, especially about specialty equipment from the Eastern continent. "I will send Ser Brayton off to Myr before I leave for the wedding at Grandview. I'll bid him to procure extras too, in case we need to arm peasant levies."

"That sounds good, my lord."

"If the trade envoy is heading to Essos, it might be helpful to procure more feed for horses. We missed the inventory count for that when we stocked more arrowheads and saddle gear." The captain of the guards added.

"Ah yes. I forgot about that." Aerion smiled appreciatively to Ser Grant for his reminder.

From the gates of the castle, three youngsters walked out while engaging in energetic conversation. Baelor was in the lead, followed by Kistam and Terrence. All three boys were trying on their shining new armor that Aerion had commissioned when he returned to Stonedance.

As Aerion's squire, Terrence spends most of his time attending to his lord. Baelor and Kistam, however, did not stick to a rigid schedule and have gotten close since Baelor's return.

"Aerion! Do you like my armor?" Baelor yelled out from ten paces away and was smiling in his helm.

"Of course I do, I helped design it, remember?" Aerion smirked at his brother. Kistam and Terrence dipped their heads at their lord in greeting and stood behind Baelor.

"Right. But don't I look brilliant in it? Like a true knight?" Their armor was one size bigger than usual to accommodate the boys' growing heights.

Aerion chuckled. "Yes, Baelor. You look very intimidating."

Baelor unsheathed his short blade from his waist. He straightened and declared in his deepest voice, "I hereby challenge you to a duel. Will you be courageous enough to accept?" His deepest voice was still of a child's, high-pitched and clear.

The adults shared amused laughs and Baelor joined in with a grin. He put back his sword and looked curiously towards the training fields.

"Can we go closer to watch the training?"

The men were practicing one-on-one wrestling, so there was little risk of harm. "You can, but don't bother the team captains when they give instruction."

Baelor nodded, "Come on Kistam, let's go watch wrestling!"

Kistam flashed an excited smile and followed Baelor towards the fields. The adults and Terrence watched over them.

"Terrence, how do you feel in the armor? Anything to adjust?" Aerion turned to his squire.

"No, my lord, it fits perfectly." Now a boy of four and ten, Terrence has grown quickly since Harrenhal. He had an interest and a talent in sword fighting, and Xorru even complimented on the boy's hard work.

"I am glad. You have been training hard, and it's due time for you to have a full armor of your own."

"Thank you, my lord." Terrence was happy to hear a compliment. He gripped tighter on the pommel of his sword as he looked up to Aerion.

"You can go join the boys if you'd like. I can manage on my own today."

Terrence nodded enthusiastically. He dipped his head to take his leave and headed towards Baelor and Kistam.

Aerion turned back to the training and discussed several points of organizing the Garrison with Ser Grant. Ser Holme was in the middle of explaining how to improve sword striking strength when a servant hurried to the group.

"My lord, the Maester is looking for your lordship."

"Where is the Maester now?"

"Heading to the courtyard, my lord."

Aerion spoke his apologies to leave the conversation. Ser Holme, Ser Grant, and Xorru all dipped their heads in understanding. With a last glance towards the training fields, Aerion started on the trail back to the castle.

Maester Kelhmon was waiting for him in the middle of the castle courtyard when Aerion walked through the gates. The Maester walked up to greet his lord, with a solemn-looking Pollitor at his heels.

"My lord, I apologize for disturbing you."

"No need to worry, Maester. What do you need?" Aerion looked to Pollitor. He rarely saw the Wisdom around the castle, since he was technically in hiding.

"Wisdom Pollitor volunteered to help me organize the unused stores underneath the castle, since we procured so much more supplies. You remember how it is down there – House Massey's crypts, miles and miles of tunnels, stone chambers and corridors leading to nowhere."

"Yes, of course. I thought we needn't use all of the space, just a few more storerooms? It's too easy to get lost down there."

"Aye. Pollitor has been very helpful in mapping out some of the closer passages and chambers. His decades of experience overseeing the Guildhall's underground network is invaluable."

"I didn't know that you were helping, Wisdom. Thank you." Aerion nodded to the Wisdom and donned a smile.

"I am happy to help, my lord. I owe my life to you and Stonedance." Pollitor said genuinely.

"My lord," Maester Kelhmon continued in a lower voice, "The Wisdom came to me with some concerns… Wisdom, would you explain?"

The Wisdom looked uneasy and took over, "My lord, I was checking some of the storerooms by House Massey's crypts. There were two huge stone chambers in the next corridor very far down, each two stories tall, that was completely vacant."

He continued, "They are completely built from large stone blocks – a special kind of stone too, different from the rest of the castle."

Aerion narrowed his eyes and tried to think if he has seen the chambers that Pollitor was talking about – and he probably never have. "What's special about those chambers?"

"My lord, we have chambers like that, maybe a bit larger, in the Guildhall." Pollitor swallowed hard and lowered his voice even more, "The walls are darkened stone, and the room is bare … because the chamber is used to make _the substance_."

Aerion stared at the Wisdom. _What?_ He has never heard of any history of House Massey dabbling with the Alchemists' Guild or with wildfire. Could it be his grandfather or father?

That was unlikely too, since out of all the noble houses and families, _ **his**_ family would endeavor to stay as far as they can from wildfire – his ancestor, the infamous Prince Aerion the Monstrous, _**did die**_ drinking the substance.

The Maester asked what Aerion wanted to ask for him. "Pollitor, are you certain of it? Could the chambers have been used for something else entirely?"

The Wisdom thought for a moment, "I guess the chambers could have been storage areas or as hidden rooms. But it does have all the precautionary builds for making wildfire – the darkened stone blocks, a narrow entrance, at least two stories tall, nothing that would catch fire in the vicinity…"

"That is indeed curious." Maester Kelhmon agreed, "Could you tell if it has been used recently?"

"The chambers are dusty, for sure, and cobwebs crowd the corners." Pollitor pursed his lips in thought, "Though I can't say how long it has been unused. Making _the substance_ doesn't leave a trace, anyway."

The three men paused in their own thoughts. Aerion cleared his throat, "Wisdom, we had no idea that such chambers existed in the castle. I also haven't heard of wildfire being used in this part of the Crownlands for at least a hundred years."

"That's right. If wildfire _was_ made here, but not used, could it be stored for that long?" The Maester was eager for Pollitor's answer.

"Under the right storage conditions, wildfire can be potent after a century. It gets more powerful as it ages, actually." The Wisdom was sure of it, since he knew the production intimately.

Aerion tapped on his arm and shifted his weight between from one foot to the other. Has he been sleeping in a castle on top of a stash of wildfire this whole time? "Wisdom Pollitor, in your experienced opinion, where could wildfire be stored in this castle that is both safe and secluded?"

"My lord, Stonedance is built on a cliff, with a good portion of the mountain tunneled out for the dock lift. Anywhere that might damage the lift, or the foundations of the castle would be ill-advised. That rules out three directions save to go more in-land. I would wager a level or two below the House Massey crypts for a wildfire vault."

Aerion exchanged a glance with Maester Kelhmon. The Maester gave a small nod as his approval of the theory.

Aerion drew a deep breath. "We need to be sure if there is wildfire at Stonedance. I will assign thirty trusted men to help navigate the tunnels under the crypts, if we can even find the entrance to those lower floors. I want this investigation to be absolutely discreet, am I clear?"

"Yes, my lord." The Maester and the Wisdom both nodded in confirmation. Maester Kelhmon had an apprehensive look, while Pollitor seemed excited for the prospect of finding antique wildfire.

* * *

_**Grandview, Stormlands, 282 AC** _

The date of Lord Renfred Rykker and Lady Everly Grandison's wedding was set many moons ago. It came faster than Aerion had wanted, for he still had much to address at Stonedance.

He wanted to be in the castle when his men swept the last of the tunnels underneath the ancient crypts of House Massey. He wanted to be there in case they find a vault of wildfire, or in case they found _anything_. Yet, the Grandview wedding was taking place soon and he had to ride out with Baelor to attend as guests of honor.

Not that he is unhappy to be at the ceremony. He and Lorent Grandison practically grew up together, and Lorent's sister is much like a sister to Aerion. Upon arriving at Grandview keep and seeing the wedding adornments, he felt bittersweet for the event.

He hoped that Everly will be happy with her future husband, and felt sad that the next time he visits Grandview, he won't see Everly's gentle smiles.

It was the day of the wedding and all the guests gathered in Grandview's beautiful Sept. Charming bouquets decorated the walls and small tables, and a hand-knit aisle runner presenting both Houses' sigils lined the middle of the holy place.

Aerion and Baelor stood on Lady Everly's side in the ceremony, just behind Lorent Grandison and some Grandison cousins. Across the aisle, Lord Renfred Rykker stood on the dais with the Septon, and his maternal House Darke cousins filled up their side of the Sept.

Lord Renfred's household was simple. Both of his parents were deceased, and he was an only child. His uncle had been killed during the Defiance of Duskendale and left no children. Everly was to join her lord husband and build a fresh generation for House Rykker.

Everly did not mind the lack of kin. She would always have Lorent and her own cousins for support if she and her new husband needed help. She was looking forward to marrying the young and handsome Lord of Duskendale and starting her household.

Furthermore, to build a good relationship with Lorent, Renfred offered one of his bannerman's young sons to squire for Grandview's heir. Lorent happily accepted the young lad of four and ten and thanked his new goodbrother.

All eyes turned to Lord Hugh Grandison and Lady Everly when music sounded that welcomed the bride. Handmaidens hurried behind Everly to make sure that the train of her gown did not ruffle after her steps.

On top of her gold and white wedding gown, she wore a thick cloak displaying the majestic sleeping lion of her maiden House on a yellow field. Her cheeks flushed as everyone smiled at her and she clenched the sides of her dress in nervousness.

Lord Grandison was elated. He was very happy with Renfred as a goodson, Aerion knew. The young lord was polite and charming and showed genuine affection for Lady Everly – everything that a father wanted for his daughter.

The distance to the dais was not far and the bride and her father quickly reached the bottom of the dais. Lord Grandison gave Lord Rykker his daughter's hand, and the younger lord gently led Lady Everly up the stairs.

With a delighted smile, the Septon began his speech about the institution of marriage and the prayers to the seven faces of God.

The bride and groom shared a shy smile before it was time to cloak the bride. Stopping behind his bride, Renfred unclasped the House Grandison cloak with almost trembling hands and respectfully returned it to Lord Grandison. Afterwards, the groom unfolded a second cloak that emblazoned House Rykker's banner. He smoothly draped it around Everly's shoulders.

Gesturing the bride and groom to hold hands, the Septon wrapped an elaborate band of silk and lace around the joined hands. "Let it be known that on this joyous day, Everly of House Grandison and Renfred of House Rykker are one heart, one flesh, one soul."

The bride and groom took their final vows, their words steady and clear for all the guests to hear. After the Septon's endorsement, the wedding ceremony was complete. The guests cheered and words of blessing and congratulations were shared.

Joyous music filled the Sept and groups of servants led the guests to Grandview's main hall for the wedding feast.

"Congratulations, Lord Grandison." Aerion smiled at Lorent and Everly's father as they walked towards the main hall in the middle of the crowd.

"Thank you, Lord Aerion." The older lord was beaming. His wrinkles curved around his broad smile.

"Lord Renfred succeeded his father just a year ago but has already built a respectable reputation for leading his household and banners. Lady Everly will be well cared for."

"I believe so too, my lord. My goodson is a great match for little Everly."

After Lord Grandison's reply, the older lord got pulled away by a Grandison cousin who wanted to congratulate him.

Aerion shook his head in amusement and found he and Baelor's seats at the end of the high table. By custom, they weren't supposed to be sitting with the families of the marriage reunion.

However, Lord Renfred only had himself and a close House Darke cousin, so it was up to the Grandisons to fill all the other empty seats.

After Everly, Lord Hugh, Lorent, and one Grandison cousin, Aerion and Baelor were invited as guests of honor to sit by the bride and the groom.

Jesters and singers started their acts from a corner of the hall while the rest of the wedding guests poured in. Once everyone found their seats, Grandview maids and servants served fresh baskets of bread, soups, and a large pigeon pie in front of the bride and groom.

Aerion watched a nervous Lord Rykker offer the knife to his new wife to do the honors. With a shy smile, Lady Everly invited her husband to slice the massive pigeon pie together and share the traditional wedding fare with their guests.

They look sweet together. Aerion was glad that Everly found a good match.

Aerion encouraged Baelor to present the Stonedance party's wedding gifts when guests lined up to bless the couple.

A full suit of armor for Lord Renfred Rykker, and a set of black pearl necklace, bracelet, and earrings from the Septstones for the new Lady Everly Rykker.

Wine flowed through the tables and the rest of the feast went in lively celebration. Aerion danced with a smiling Lady Everly, who was flushed from wine. He joked with Lorent, the Grandison cousin, and Baelor in good fun.

He cheered and roared with the other guests when it was time for the bedding but did not join in with the other male guests to carry a blushing Everly to the newlyweds' bedchamber. After that, the evening went by in a blur.

Aerion woke up in a comfy featherbed to soft voices calling his name. His eyes were tightly shut as he tried to shift from his awkward sleeping pose. One of his arms is completely numb and he felt nauseous when he tried to lift up his upper body.

A splitting headache commanded most of his thoughts as he tried to process his surroundings.

The soft voices came back, and a cool hand tentatively rested on his forehead. The voices debated whether or not he was feverish.

Aerion's eyes were still closed. He suddenly felt very thirsty and rough in his throat.

A wet towel gently pressed to his forehead and his attendants were arranging he blanks and pillows so he can spread out in a more comfortable position. He sighed in relief when a refreshing cloth wiped away the sweat and tension from his face and neck.

Aerion finally tried to open his eyes after steadying his breath. The mid-day sun in the chamber nearly blinded him and he winced and tried to hide from the light behind a pillow.

There was a slight giggle from Aerion's reaction. Someone placed something that sounded like glass by his bedside table.

Aerion gave himself time to adjust when he tried to open his eyes again. He blinked away the tears that stung his eyes and took in his surroundings.

He was back in his guest chamber at Grandview. His trunk was freshly organized and he was wearing his undershirt from the wedding feast. Two maids were attending to him – they smiled warmly when he looked awake.

"Mi'lord." The maids both gave a small courtesy and returned to their tasks at hand. One was drenching a towel in a water basin that washed his face; the other was setting out fresh clothes for him by the wardrobe.

Aerion noticed the glass of water that was set on his nightstand. He grabbed the glass eagerly and downed the refreshing drink. Clearing his throat, he finally found his voice, "What hour is it?"

The maid washing the towel answered with a tug on the corner of her mouth, "Late afternoon mi'lord. Lord Hugh sent us, he was wondering if you will join the house for dinner."

Did he really drink that much? Enough to knock him out until late afternoon the next day? Aerion rubbed his temples. It was probably a mix of the alcohol and how tired he has been in the last while.

"I will be there." Aerion's arm recovered from the numbness and he pushed himself higher against the headboard. His headache got better with the water, but he could only move slowly to avoid inducing nausea.

"Where is my brother?"

"Lord Baelor broke his fast with Lord Hugh, Lord Renfred, and Lady Everly this morning. He came to check up on you and then on Lord Lorent around mid-day." The taller girl of the two answered. "Lord Baelor should be with the Maester right now."

Aerion smirked, "Lord Lorent passed out too?"

"Aye, my lord. Lord Hugh arranged guards to carry you back to your chambers in the early morning. Lord Lorent is being attended to right now, too."

That made Aerion feel better. He couldn't remember how many flasks of wine the two of them emptied last night – but if he was knocked out, Lorent couldn't have been much better.

He stared blankly at his empty glass as he tried to decide which was more urgent – visiting the privy chamber, getting another glass of water, or taking a nap to ease his headache.

The maid finished their work and asked if he needed anything else. He shook his head and was half-aware when they turned to leave.

When he was by himself in the chamber, he rubbed his temples some more and yawned. His mind screamed at him to visit the privy chamber, so he begrudgingly obliged.

He couldn't say that he was fully awake when he strolled through the keep to reach the main hall. His servants had to call out to him twice when he took a wrong turn or almost fell off the last steps of the stairs.

He met an equally dazed Lorent, flanked by servants who propped him up, by the main hall's entrance. The two good friends exchanged a smirk and tried to look attentive when they greeted Lord Hugh at the head of the table.

Lord Hugh looked amused at his son and Aerion. He waved at the servants to help the two young men sit. Baelor smirked at their drowsy state but said nothing. The newlyweds were seated at the table, too, and greeted them with kind smiles.

Aerion made himself take at least a bite or two from each course that was served to him. His stomach protested but he drank more water to wash down the food.

Midway through dinner, a servant rushed in and interrupted a conversation between Lord Renfred and his goodfather. "My lords, we received a raven message from Stonedance." The servant presented a small rolled parchment in his palm.

Aerion furrowed his brow and held up his hand for the message. Rolling it between his fingers, he easily spread out the parchment and recognized Maester Kelhmon's hand.

Whatever drowsiness that Aerion felt, it dissipated as the message sank in. He gripped the sides of the parchment tightly and felt a burn of disappointment and agony within him.

_Word from Harrenhal: Lyanna Stark was abducted by Prince Rhaegar. Both are still missing. House Stark is combing through the Riverlands while Brandon Stark rides south on the Kingsroad._


	9. King's Justice

**Author's note:**

Hi all, thank you for reading! Thank you for your kind comments!

 **A small disclaimer:** _**there will be more deliberation and politics in the next few chapters than action.**_ I didn't anticipate spending quite as much time delving into the politics to move the plot along – but I feel like it helped illustrate the complexity of Aerion's surroundings and his choices.

Aerion is influential only if the Crown Prince or the King _wants_ to hear his advice. He doesn't command a natural authority like Prince Rhaegar and is not feared by most nobles in the Seven Kingdoms. Thus, he spends more time keeping his allies happy and negotiating for what he wants, while Rhaegar is more used to taking what he wants.

I hope sharing how I perceive the character is helpful! I appreciate you all for following the story!

* * *

**Chapter 9: King's Justice**

_**Stonedance, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

The Stonedance party rode out of Grandview in the middle of the main hall dinner. They had not brought a carriage when they came, so they could make it home on fast horses around midnight.

Back when they received the raven, Aerion had passed the note around the table for the Grandisons and Rykkers to read at their curious gazes. As it seems, word has not gotten out to most noble houses yet, since Grandview did not receive a similar raven.

Lord Hugh Grandison's reaction was a mix of worry and anger. He looked to Aerion and spoke solemnly, "My House is sworn to the Baratheons of Storm's End; an injury to their honor is an injury to the Grandisons. What the Prince did is an affront to all of the Stormlands, in addition to the Starks and the North."

Aerion wiped his face with his palm and nodded in understanding. He spoke softly in regret, "I know. The Prince is in the wrong with this."

"Crowning Lady Lyanna the Queen of love and beauty was one thing, but abduction is entirely outrageous!" Lord Grandison exclaimed.

"I do understand, my lord." Aerion grimaced and closed his eyes briefly. "I will return to Stonedance and contact Dragonstone and King's Landing. I will find the Prince and _fix this_."

Lord Hugh sighed deeply, "I hope you do. And solve this problem fast, too. I would not know what to do if Lord Robert calls his banners against the Crown." He stared at Aerion's three-headed dragon brooch with a pained expression.

Aerion swallowed and stood up from his seat. He looked to Baelor, and his brother followed him to stand. "My Lord, I will leave for Stonedance tonight. The sooner I get back, the more information I will have."

Lord Hugh stood too. His voice is a bit softer after seeing Aerion's sincerity. "Lord Aerion, I will pray for the safe return of Lady Lyanna to her family. I also know that the Crown Prince is not a tyrant, so maybe there is a way to settle everything peacefully."

"Yes, maybe there was a misunderstanding. We haven't received word from Storm's End, so things might change." Lorent showed a comforting smile to Aerion and got up from his seat. "I'll see you out to the gates."

"I will try my best, my lord." Aerion answered Lord Hugh and thanked Lorent for his help.

He looked to the newlyweds at the table, "I apologize for my abrupt departure, Lord and Lady Rykker. I do wish the best for both of you."

Everly donned a small smile at Aerion. Renfred Rykker got up from his seat and offered, "I'll come with you, Lorent. I can help."

The four lords made their way out of the main hall in silence. Aerion waved over Ser Grant and ordered his retinue to get ready for departure. Ser Grant was very surprised, since he had seen a half-drunk Aerion walk into dinner a mere hour ago. He did not ask further questions though, and promised that the party would be ready quickly.

"Don't worry too much; we don't know the full story yet." Lorent tried to comfort Aerion.

"I know. I just have no idea what the Prince is thinking. The tourney was half a year ago, and he has not shown a special interest in Lady Lyanna since then."

"Hopefully, it was a misunderstanding. And don't let my father's words bother you. We have been close to Stonedance for generations and has aligned with a prominent Crownlands House in marriage. I'm not saying that we will fight against our liege, but we will certainly think twice before supporting their call. We will also calm our allies in the northern Stormlands if Lord Robert acts recklessly."

"Thank you, Lorent, that means a lot." Aerion patted on his friend's shoulder in appreciation. "It would be unjust to ask your House to fight against your sworn liege openly. I understand."

The heir to Grandview nodded. "Good luck, Aerion. Keep us updated on any news."

"I will."

Renfred spoke up before Aerion climbed onto his horse, "My lord, I hope that this is all a misunderstanding as well. But whatever happens, please know that House Rykker will be faithful to the Crown. Just send a word if you need anything."

"Lord Renfred, thank you." Aerion appreciated his gesture. It is a hard position to be in, if your House and your ally through marriage are on different sides of a conflict.

After a final glance over his assembled retinue. Aerion bid Lorent and Renfred goodnight and swiftly rode out of Grandview's gates. Baelor has become a more experienced rider after the Kingsroad and his training in Stonedance. He followed closely behind Aerion with a practiced dig on the sides of his white horse.

Aerion and Ser Grant led his company on the trails that ran north to Massey's Hook. Aerion was thankful that the day got dark rather slowly, and they could cover more ground in daylight than relying on torches.

The trip was quiet aside from the clops and sighs of horses. While the retinue of Stonedance guards was puzzled by the abrupt command for departure, they did not question their lord and faithfully followed in a neat formation.

Aerion used the time to organize his thoughts. He would need to send word to Dragonstone and King's Landing at once. He was frustrated for not being told by the Crown Prince about his plot beforehand – it could mean that Rhaegar doesn't trust him to know, or the Prince acted upon impulse.

 _By the Gods!_ Aerion didn't even know that the Prince had left Dragonstone.

It was most likely planned in secret, Aerion decided. The Starks rarely venture south. They were only in the Riverlands because Brandon Stark was due to marry Lady Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. Rhaegar had moved at the only opportunity when Lady Lyanna was close by.

With what happened to his sister, Aerion can't blame Lord Brandon for pushing aside his wedding to demand answers. He is undoubtedly riding for King's Landing, where he expects Rhaegar will be hiding.

Aerion hopes that Rhaegar will head to King's Landing. He and Lyanna were still missing, but where would the Crown Prince go, if not the capital or his seat of Dragonstone?

If Rhaegar shows up in King's Landing with an unharmed Lady Lyanna, all will be amendable. He could help Rhaegar explain his foolishness, and appeal to the Starks and even the Baratheons with favorable compromises.

 _If Lyanna is unharmed._ That is the most important condition. There were only so many motivations for kidnapping a maiden – ransom, vengeance, assault – and Aerion could not imagine why Rhaegar would seek any of those things.

Aerion needed to hear from the Dragon Prince. What is his endgame? How can Aerion be of help if he is left in the dark?

The Stonedance gates custodian stared, mouth agape with disbelief, when his lord and retinue arrived in the dead of night. He squinted from the castle wall to double check if it was truly his lord, and scrambled to get the guards to open the gates.

The gates moved slowly and Aerion clenched his reins in impatience. As soon as the width was wide enough to admit a man and a horse, he kicked his horse and lunged for the castle courtyard.

The castle woke up to the arrival of the group. More torches were lit from the towers and in the courtyard. Servants approached to help Aerion climb off his horse and even brought a thicker cloak for the chilly night.

As his retinue climbed off their horses and started to relax from the long journey, he bid Ser Grant to dismiss the men to rest. He grabbed a pair of servants to take Baelor to his chambers.

Baelor was yawning deeply and struggled to keep his eyes open. He followed behind the servants to the master tower without complaint.

Aerion would not rest until messages are sent out and plans are made. He nodded for Ser Grant to follow him and the two began towards the Lord's study.

They met Maester Kelhmon before the stairs up the main tower. The Maester was still tying his robes around his waist and his hair was messy from sleep. "My lord, I didn't expect you to be back so quickly."

Aerion shrugged, "I am needed here. Time is too precious to be wasted."

The Maester nodded. They were joined by Xorru and Ser Bryce when they reached the corridor to the study.

The Lord of Stonedance and all four of his highest-ranking castle officials piled into the mid-sized study and took their seats at a long table.

Four maids served pitchers of water and flasks of arbor gold, along with a platter of small sandwiches for the attendees. Feeling hungry from his ride with only a half-eaten dinner, Aerion reached for the nearest sandwich and took a generous bite.

Maester Kelhmon began sharing what he has learned since sending his raven to Grandview. "We received a raven from Lord Varys before dark. Brandon Stark arrived in the capital and demanded Prince Rhaegar to come out of the Red Keep and 'face his death'. The King had Lord Brandon arrested for conspiring against the Crown."

The King's reaction was predictable. Lord Brandon Stark was too reckless with his demands.

"How did Brandon get to the capital so quickly?"

"Harrenhal sent word to King's Landing and the Great Houses first. We only received word this morning – ten days after the fact. Still, most noble houses have not heard. It depends on whether the Great Houses have been actively spreading the news."

"Hmmm." Aerion finished his sandwich and sipped from his glass of water. "I'm assuming that the Prince is not in the capital?"

"No, my lord. Lord Varys was certain about that. His grace sent out royal guards to scout the Crownlands for the Prince as well."

Aerion rubbed his temples and considered the new developments. "Have we heard anything from Dragonstone?"

"Nothing from Dragonstone, oddly. I would have expected Dragonstone to warn us in advance."

Aerion nodded, "Rhaegar probably planned in secret. I doubt the Princess or most of his household knew in advance."

The Stonedance officials paused for a minute in thought. Ser Bryce nodded at Aerion in agreement.

"We should ask Dragonstone exactly what they know. Such as the Prince's instructions before he left or mentions of where he will be for the next while." Aerion furrowed his eyebrows.

Maester Kelhmon walked over to a shelf to fetch parchment, quill, and ink, to take notes on their plans. With soft scratches with his quill, the Maester took down Aerion's instructions.

"Let's reply to Lord Varys' message. Ask him to keep us informed about the situation in King's Landing. If he can see to a comfortable treatment for Lord Brandon while he is in custody, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Aye, that is wise, my lord. We should advise the King and the Small Council to release Lord Brandon, for he has reasonable grievances." Ser Bryce added.

Aerion nodded, "I will write a formal letter to Maester Pycelle as advice to his grace and ask about their search of Prince Rhaegar. Perhaps a second letter to Lord Merryweather, the Hand of the King?"

Maester Kelhmon gave a soft snort, "I wouldn't count on the Lord Hand's help, my lord."

"I am not. Lord Merryweather has no pull in front of the King, but he still holds the formal title. I write to him as custom demands."

The Maester gave an approving smile, "I can draft the messages to Dragonstone and Lord Varys. I will send them by raven first thing in the morning."

"Would that be too slow? To wait for the morning?" Aerion was worried that things were moving fast.

"My lord, the ravens are more likely to get lost at night. For such important messages, I would advise waiting for daybreak."

Aerion shook his head, "I was thinking of sending messengers instead of ravens. A boat can sail to King's Landing before the morning from here, and Dragonstone is even closer."

Xorru spoke up, "We can make use of the night that way. I think it's a good idea."

Maester Kelhmon admitted the plan's merit, "We can arrange for guards to go. They can carry Maester Pycelle and Lord Merryweather's letters too, if we draft them now."

"My lord, would the King perceive our actions as interfering with court affairs? We haven't been invited to consult on the matter, so his grace might be suspicious of how we learned the news." Ser Bryce cautioned.

"Stonedance is close to Dragonstone, and surely Dragonstone is in panic after what happened. We can imply that we heard from Dragonstone and are concerned for the Crown Prince." Maester Kelhmon proposed.

"Yes. For the letters to the King and the Hand, ask for Prince Rhaegar's safety before advising anything. For Lord Varys, we can be more candid." Aerion reached for a fresh piece of parchment and dipped his quill in black ink. "How should I phrase the advice to his grace?" He asked around the room for suggestions.

The five men worked until all the letters were done and repeatedly checked for clarity. The hour was very late, and the morning was probably just a handful of hours away.

Ser Grant held the sealed letters carefully in his arm and went to assign trusted guards to deliver them. The messengers were leaving right away, taking small boats from Stonedance's docks.

Aerion adjourned the meeting so everyone can get some rest. He was already anxious for King's Landing and Dragonstone's replies and tried to gauge their potential responses.

He took a quick bath when he reached his chambers and then dropped onto his bed in tiredness. His mind wandered to the Crown Prince, the beautiful Lady Lyanna, and then to the fierce and impetuous heir of Winterfell, before embracing the serenity of sleep.

* * *

Aerion was once again woken by soft voices calling his name. A sense of déjà vu swept through him when he tried to open his eyes but groaned irritably to the blinding sunlight.

At least his limbs weren't numb this time, and he was laying in a relatively normal pose that did not induce cramps or aches. He also didn't have a terrible headache, which is always good news.

As two sets of slight footsteps worked around him, from maids or servants, he gathered enough energy to pull himself up and to slowly open his eyes.

He blinked away the blur in his vision and scratched his head. From the scene outside of his window, it was already midday.

Two maids readied his clothes and served him a platter of food and drink on the small table. Aerion's belongings that he brought to Grandview were already unpacked and organized neatly in their original places in his bedchamber.

They dipped their heads when Aerion looked more alert and wished their lord good morning. One of them addressed Aerion, "Mi'lord, the Maester says that the messenger to Dragonstone has returned. He has arranged a meeting in an hour in the study."

"What? When did the messenger get here? Why didn't he wake me earlier?"

"The messenger only just arrived. The Maester sent us up right after his lift reached the courtyard."

Aerion threw his blankets to one side and sat up on the side of his bed. His feet searched for his shoes while he drank from a glass by his bedside. "Tell Maester Kelhmon that I don't need an hour. Call the meeting for as soon as possible and I will join them in the study."

"Aye, mi'lord." The maids wrapped up their work and curtsied away, closing his chamber doors after them.

The five men gathered in the Lord's study not twelve hours since their last meeting. Aerion was the last to arrive, since he was just getting out of bed, whereas his officials look a lot more awake.

"Any word from King's Landing?" That was the first question on Aerion's mind when he took his seat.

"No, my lord, but that's expected. Dragonstone is a lot closer for a faster reply."

Aerion nodded and glanced down at a letter handed to him by the Maester. It looked like the hand of the Maester on Dragonstone, who always corresponded with Aerion on Prince Rhaegar's behalf.

"The abduction was a complete surprise to Dragonstone. Prince Rhaegar left the island just half a moon ago and told his household that he was heading to King's Landing, he did not say more than that. Princess Elia has been distressed upon hearing the news."

Aerion frowned and read the short letter. The words sounded genuine, so he was probably right that Rhaegar did not consult his household about his plans.

"Prince Rhaegar did bring Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent with him. He left no Kingsguard on Dragonstone to protect the Princesses and Prince Aegon." Maester Kelhmon looked concerned about Rhaegar's arrangements.

"Dragonstone is heavily fortified as it is. The royal fleet is also on guard in its waters. We needn't worry about the Prince's household at this time." Ser Grant analyzed.

"I agree. It's unfortunate that Dragonstone cannot tell us much more than what we know. Finding Rhaegar, and by extension, Lady Lyanna, should be our top priority right now." Aerion reached towards the shelf and unfolded a massive map of Westeros on the table.

It was beautifully painted and painstakingly detailed, with every village, inn, and small road drawn and labeled. The men around the table stood from their chairs to study the map.

"The North and the Vale are out of the question. Prince Rhaegar would not risk hiding near the Starks or passing through the gates of the Vale undetected." Xorru offered.

"He could still hide in the Riverlands, there is a lot of ground to cover for a search party and many Houses and keeps to hold out." Ser Grant gestured to a circle of lands around Harrenhal.

Aerion shook his head, "Rhaegar knows that's too risky. Lord Hoster Tully is an ally of House Stark, so the Riverlands forces will be looking for him too."

"The Westerlands has no incentive to offer the Prince refuge, after Lord Tywin Lannister's fall out with the King." The Maester frowned down at the map.

"But the West is still safer than the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale. If Rhaegar doesn't want to be discovered, he would stay away from the Crownlands and go west or south." Aerion countered.

"If we are to send search parties, we should start with the regions closer to Harrenhal. The King is covering the Crownlands plains, so we should send men to search along the Goldroad and the Blackwater Rush."

"It's not guaranteed that the Prince is close to Harrenhal. He could ride to any port and sail to anywhere."

"We'll have to start _somewhere_ , don't we? The closer it is to Harrenhal, the more likely we will find the Prince."

Before Ser Grant and Ser Bryce descended into a heated argument, Aerion raised his arm. "Please, we are trying to discuss all our options here."

"The Prince soured his relationship with Dorne with the abduction. The Prince is also not overly fond of Lord Tywin, so I doubt he would put himself in a precarious position in the Westerlands or in Dorne. That leaves just the Reach, since the Stormlands will be looking for Lady Lyanna as well." Maester Kelhmon concluded.

Aerion agreed, "We can't rule out the Westerlands and Dorne completely, but along the Goldroad and the Roseroad are our best bets for now. I'll assign two hundred horsemen for the assignment – perhaps they can spread out in groups of four or five, Ser Grant?"

"Aye, that should work. Each hundred will report to a legion captain to keep track of their search areas. I can prep them to depart later today."

"Good. Fly Stonedance banners. If Rhaegar's men see my banners, maybe they will be willing to talk." Aerion nodded. "And Maester Kelhmon, help me send word to Lord Mace Tyrell. Rhaegar is most likely headed his way, so ask him to correspond to me if there is news of Rhaegar in the Reach."

"Of course, my lord." The Maester took down more notes on parchment.

A light knock sounded from the door and a voice called, "Mi'lord, a new raven message."

Aerion looked to the door and bid the servant to enter. He took over the small scroll and unfolded the new message at the table.

"It's from Lord Varys." Aerion was glad to hear back from the Master of Whisperers so promptly. However, as he read on, he pursed his lip and wore a troubled look.

"A handful of Crownlands lords had an audience with the King to plead for Lord Brandon's release, but the King refused and left no room for argument. The King sent orders to Lord Rickard Stark to ride to the capital and answer his son's crime." Aerion shook his head.

Aerion slid the short letter across the table for his advisors to read. He scowled, "Lord Varys doesn't believe the King is open to hearing any counsel about releasing Brandon Stark."

"The King is stretching a mild annoyance to the extremes. This isn't a true invitation for Lord Rickard to argue his case – I fear that Lord Rickard will be arrested just like his son." Maester Kelhmon finished the note and looked to Aerion.

"That's exactly my worry. The King is not interested in dispensing justice, only whatever that pleases him."

"What can we do now?" Ser Grant asked.

"We've sent our counsel. We shouldn't risk the King's ire to try again, especially when we don't have an official reply from Maester Pycelle or the Lord Hand." Aerion stared at the massive map in frustration. "We _need_ to find Prince Rhaegar; he is the only one who can resolve this mess."

"Aye. I'll go prep our riders right now and see them off in two hours, at most." Ser Grant promised. He dipped his head and took his leave.

Aerion slid back on his seat and poured himself a glass of arbor gold. He offered drinks to Ser Bryce and Maester Kelhmon.

Was it time that Rhaegar needed? Aerion supposed that he could try to stall the spread of news about the abduction. Did Rhaegar need more guards to make it home to King's Landing or Dragonstone without detection? In that case, the Prince must send word because Aerion cannot possibly read his mind.

He stared down at the complete map of Westeros, following the trails and waterways that led from Harrenhal. With no instructions from Prince Rhaegar to work with, Aerion wasn't sure how he could help.

* * *

A week has gone by without much news. Stonedance's search parties covered as much area as possible, but the riders are disadvantaged for leaving a week later than Rhaegar's entourage.

Some of Aerion's men who were searching along the Blackwater Rush ran into Riverlands and Northern search parties, which suggests that the Riverlands have already been thoroughly searched with no trace of the Crown Prince.

Accounting for this new piece of information, Aerion tweaked his orders and bid his search parties to stick to the southern side of the Blackwater, and go deeper into the Reach instead of searching the border between the Crownlands and the Reach.

At the same time, the Warden of the North was on his way to the capital. Lord Rickard Stark was in Riverrun for his son's wedding when the King's summons arrived. Maester Kelhmon's contacts say that the Lord of Winterfell was appalled that his son and heir was arrested, and answered the summons out of fear for Brandon Stark's safety.

With no success of securing Brandon Stark's release and no word about Rhaegar, Aerion wondered if he should head to King's Landing. At least he might be more useful there, swaying more lords to counsel the King, meeting with the Small Council, or overseeing part of the search for Prince Rhaegar.

Maester Kelhmon was strongly against the idea. He argued that Aerion would have little success moderating the issue after Lord Varys and Lord Merryweather's efforts. Aerion's recommendations were heard and adopted at court because Prince Rhaegar has been a strong sponsor to Aerion – but now, with the Crown Prince missing, the King will dismiss Aerion's words without batting an eye.

A small piece of good news did arrive for Aeiron – _well, Aerion was still deciding if it was good news or worrisome news –_ that after a fortnight of exploring and digging, Wisdom Pollitor and his guards found a small stash of wildfire under Stonedance. There were sixty-seven jars of the substance in total, and the vault was between three to four stories below the ancient crypts of House Massey.

Wisdom Pollitor was thrilled to find evidence to confirm his suspicion. He had almost lost hope when the squad cleared the second story below the crypts, but a hidden door leading deeper underground had caught his eye.

Upon analyzing the stash, Wisdom Pollitor dated the wildfire to around fifty or sixty years ago – before Stonedance was granted to Lord Maegor. However, he cannot tell whether the stash was made at Stonedance or moved here from another site.

Aerion wasn't too interested in finding out the exact origins of the wildfire stash. What bothered him more was what he could do with it. He worried about the safety of storing the substance and potential accidents.

Aerion had seen the King experiment with wildfire explosions outside of the City gates of King's Landing, but had never used it or seen it used in battle. He supposed that wildfire could be a secret weapon for Stonedance if the castle was ever sieged.

Pollitor promised that the wildfire vault met all the guidelines of the Alchemists' Guild. "Comparable in safety to the Guild's vault under the Dragon Pits of the capital", he had said. But Aerion was still nervous about having his family and his men live so close to such dangerous material. Sixty or so jars could kill thousands if ignited at once, and the fire would burn for two full days.

Weighing his options, Aerion decided to close off the vault and keep the discovery a secret. He called for a meeting to discuss the wildfire and asked the Wisdom to help lower the risk of an accident with his best efforts.

He commanded that the stash of wildfire could only be used if Stonedance was under siege and nearing defeat. Unless it was a matter of life and death, Aerion did not want the rest of the Seven Kingdoms to learn that he holds a stash of wildfire, or risk his castle and men if an explosion gets out of control.

His castle officials were supportive of the order. They vowed to defend Stonedance with their lives and only use wildfire if it was absolutely necessary. Aerion had sighed in relief and urged himself to not worry about the stash until the need comes up.

After the short meeting, Aerion spent a few more days in disappointment. Riders and ravens who returned to Stondance brought no news of the Crown Princes nor clues of his trail to pursue.

After studying the map of Westeros and thinking from Rhaegar's perspective, Aerion narrowed his estimation of where the Prince is to south of the Reach and Dorne.

The Prince would be safe if he was found in the Reach. Lord Mace Tyrell had no devious ambitions and would not harm the Prince. However, if the Prince heads to Dorne, the Dornish may not greet him as warmly as the Lord of Highgarden.

Aerion pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his fingers on the map in consideration. He hoped that Princess Elia still held some sort of affection for her husband – at least enough to petition for his well-being.

With a quill in hand, Aerion wrote a letter to Dragonstone. He would ask Princess Elia to send word to Dorne. _He pleaded that if Prince Rhaegar is found in Dorne, House Martell would not harm the Prince, despite their anger towards him._

Aerion hoped with all his heart that the Princess will agree to help. He hoped that Princess Elia can understand that if something were to happen to Rhaegar, both her family on Dragonstone and the Targaryen dynasty would fall into chaos.

They would find out exactly what happened between Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna, later, and Aerion will firmly be on Princess Elia's side – for the Princess had been terribly betrayed for no good reason.

Aerion sealed the letter with the Targaryen Dragon and a golden stroke by the dragon's fiery breaths. He sent a servant to deliver it to Maester Kelhmon and hoped that he still had allies on Dragonstone.

On the next day, just after midday, Aerion received one reply from Dragonstone and one message from Lord Varys at the same time. Maester Kelhmon had kept the messages sealed for Aerion to read first.

Aerion set both messages on the table and hesitated. He braced himself for a positive answer from Princess Elia and reached for the Dragonstone scroll.

He glanced at the entire letter very quickly and read it slowly a second time. He allowed himself a deep exhale of the breath that he was holding and smiled up at the Maester.

"Princess Elia has agreed to send word to her brothers. The Prince will be safe if he heads to Dorne. She warns that her brothers will not be happy, but will respect her wishes."

Maester Kelhmon smiled back, "That is terrific news, my lord. We might not know where the Crown Prince is, but at least Dorne will not be an immediate threat."

Aerion handed the Maester the letter. "I am grateful for Princess Elia's generosity. I will make sure that Rhaegar does her justice when he returns."

Maester Kelhmon hummed in agreement and started reading the letter from Dragonstone.

In a lighter mood, Aerion reached for Lord Varys' letter. The seal was hastily done for Lord Varys' standards, but not out of the ordinary when the sender is busy.

Unwrapping the scroll, Aerion noticed that the letter was several paragraphs long. He focused his gaze and started at the top. The words rang in Aerion's mind with Lord Varys' delicate tone.

Aerion can't remember if his hands went cold slowly or instantly. Each of Lord Varys' words burned at the back of his eyes, and his stomach twisted violently in agony and despair.

 _King Aerys II would see the end of the Targaryen dynasty._ Aerion squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head into his palms. His mind ran wild. What to do now? How will we endure this?

"My lord?" Maester Kelhmon has finished reading Dragonstone's letter. He stared at the distraught Lord of Stonedance with concern.

Wordlessly, Aerion held up the letter from King's Landing for his Maester. The letter that described the deaths of Lord Rickard Stark and Lord Brandon Stark in gruesome detail. The letter that explained how Lord Rickard was cooked alive in his armor by wildfire, while his son and heir strangled himself to death in an attempt to save his father.

 _Now I understand why the Red Keep needed wildfire._ Aerion could almost smell the wildfire's acidic odor and hear the desperate screams of the father and son at their execution.

He could almost see the noblemen and the Kingsguard who gathered to witness the King's justice – and how no one dared to voice an objection. Lord Varys described how the silence in the Great Hall was deafening after the cries of Brandon Stark had died down.

Moreover, Lord Varys ended his letter with a grave warning. The King has commanded Lord Jon Arryn to hand over Eddard Stark and Lord Robert Baratheon, suspecting treason and conspiracy from the North and the Stormlands.

Just moments ago, Aerion believed there was hope for peace and conciliation. But now, there are no more strings to pull, deals to make, or common sense to appeal to. The realm will suffer as the mad King taunts half of his kingdom into rebellion.

Aerion thought of what to do. He rubbed the side of his arm anxiously and stared at the letter in Maester Kelhmon's hands. He thought of Lord Arryn's probable reaction and how the North will respond. He thought of Prince Rhaegar, who was still missing. He thought about how the King just lost the hearts of half of his realm with his cruelty.

All of Aerion's considerations brought him to the same conclusion. He would have to do this, sooner or later, and he would rather be more prepared than be caught in surprise.

Aerion found his voice when he made up his mind. His voice sounded rough and thick, but more than clear for the Maester to hear. "Call my banners."


	10. The Crownlands that were once Stormlands

**Chapter 10: The Crownlands that used to be Stormlands**

_**Stonedance, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

Calling the banners was a messy business. Aerion's bannermen had so many questions that he could not answer, and sending comprehensive instructions was difficult with only brief planning.

The two main Houses sworn to Stonedance, House Rambton and House Bywater, asked for the purpose of assembling a fighting legion. They have only heard rumors about what the King did to the Lords of Winterfell, and are still trying to piece together the situation.

Aerion opted to tell them the full story after they've all assembled at Stonedance. He needed his bannermen to focus on gathering their men and supplies, over corresponding such urgent matters through ravens.

The lesser Houses sworn to him, namely House Edgerton and households of landed knights like Ser Holme, asked fewer questions. But, Aerion suspects that they are baffled by his command all the same, and will be eager for his explanation.

Thus, it has been a chaotic few days after he called his banners. Noble houses around Massey's Hook and toward the border with the Stormlands rushed to call their respective banners and set up logistics to march for Stonedance.

Per Aerion's instructions, they were also to do so efficiently but discreetly, and pay special attention to not alarm the nearby Stormlands Houses. They were to send their forces in smaller groups to attract less attention on their journeys.

Aerion had asked for more than just the Houses' encampment forces, but almost all of the able-bodied fighting men that they could raise from their territories. Raising peasant levies always took a long time – time that Aerion didn't want to spare.

His forces had to be ready when the North, the Vale, and the Stormlands inevitably declare war. He needed to gather the full legion at Stonedance to train the men and compile their supplies.

The King's messenger had already passed the Bloody Gate, so Aerion suspects that it will just be a matter of time before the Lord of the Eyrie decides that resisting the mad King is the wisest choice.

Even though Aerion was frustrated, he could understand Lord Arryn's position. The Lord of the Eyrie had watched the King humiliate the Lannisters and brutality execute the Starks without just cause. He had watched the Crown Prince dishonor the Stormlands and insult Dorne.

If Aerion was the Lord of the Eyrie, Aerion would worry whether his House would be the King's next target. He would worry about his wards, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, who are almost trueborn sons to him.

There was no way Lord Arryn would give up the young lords to the Crown. No, Lord Jon Arryn would refuse to be terrorized by the King and fight back. To make things worse, the Vale will easily have the North and the Stormlands behind them.

So, Aerion must prepare to fight for his dynasty, for what is quite possibly the _survival of his dynasty_. Both his duty and his conscience could not allow him to sit this matter out. At the very least, he must defend his lands and protect his bannermen.

He bid his bannermen to keep his call amongst themselves. Aerion wanted to buy himself as much time as possible before the King descends upon him in outrage. He wouldn't need very long, just a week or so, before Lord Arryn makes his formal declaration of war and the King will be occupied with more urgent matters than addressing Stonedance's almost negligible forces.

He would then use the opportunity to set up proper defences along the Kingsroad. He would ambush rebellious Stormlands lords before they assemble into bigger armies. If the King or the Crown Prince questions his early mobilization of forces, after the order of the realm is restored, then so be it.

Aerion would take whatever punishment that the King wants to see – whether it is stripping parts of his lands and bannermen, or exiling him to Essos. At least the Targaryen dynasty would be safe, and his family would be safe.

Aerion could not imagine what would happen to his family if House Targaryen lost the Crown and their power. For a start, the Starks would probably have each of them burned to death with wildfire.

The consequences of inaction would be too severe. Aerion hoped that his father and grandfather would understand and forgive him for risking Stonedance with the suspicion and retaliation of the King. Putting down a rebellion deserved priority over his supposed impartiality on court politics.

Aerion's heart sank four days after his call when he received a letter from Lord Varys. The Master of Whisperers had found out about Aerion's call for banners, despite the secrecy.

Lord Varys harshly criticized Aerion's judgment, which borderlines mutiny. _To call one's own banners without orders from the Crown was the highest degree of treason._ Lord Varys made an effort to make that clear.

Aerion gained a glimmer of hope when he read towards the end of the letter. Lord Varys has chosen to keep the information from the Small Council and the King, and sought to confirm with Aerion first. The Spider would allow Aerion a chance to explain.

And Aerion did, by replying to Lord Varys's letter just moments after it arrived. He shared some of his worries and reassured Lord Varys that he will not – and could not – _march against the Crown_. He wanted to defend his lands and people, that was all.

For a few more days, He received no further replies from the Master of Whisperers and no furious command from the King. Aerion took that as positive signs and focused more on coordinating his men.

His bannermen gave estimates of how many men they could raise for war. If all goes well, Aerion will have an extra fourteen hundred men in addition to his garrison of twelve hundred. From the fourteen hundred bannermen, a thousand will be trained forces with battle experience, and the rest will be peasant levies with almost no training.

Aerion supposed that the ratio could have been worse. Minor Houses did not maintain large garrisons and his bannermen had to leave behind a small portion of the professional army to defend their seats.

As quickly as possible, Stonedance servants and guards set up tents outside of the castle for Aerion's bannermen. Stondance is large enough to house the lords and knights, but not the full legion.

They also cleared a large training field and planned training schedules for the new levies. Some groups close to Stonedance have started trickling in, and Xorru and Ser Grant are assessing the soldiers' skills as they settle down.

Aerion kept himself busy as he waited for the majority of his bannermen to arrive. He watched training sessions outside of the castle gates and sent all six of Stonedance's large trade ships to Essos to procure grains, horse feed, and iron.

The Stormlands is the primary threat to the southern Crownlands, and their strategy will be to push through the southern Crownlands for King's Landing. It was the obvious strategy to take, since the area is small and is only garrisoned by a handful of Houses.

The Stormlands could easily cut through and move to surround the capital. If King's Landing is besieged, it would cut off the capital's communications to all royalist forces. At that point, the war would be essentially lost for the Crown. Thus, the capital would have to be protected above all else.

In other words, Lord Robert Baratheon and almost 40,000 angry Stormlands troops will be headed in Aerion's direction. _And his defensive force will be too small to stop them,_ Aerion admitted.

Aerion needed a bigger army and more allies if he were to protect the Targaryen capital. Even accounting for reinforcements and some Stormlands Houses that choose to stay loyal to the Crown – Lord Robert's assembled army will still be large enough to outnumber Aerion four to one if he pushes north head-on.

With such a grave disadvantage in numbers, Aerion could only try to make up some of the difference with strategy and superior military training. He would need to influence more Stormlands lords, those who are less than fully devoted to Storm's End, to remain neutral or side with the Crown.

At least Aerion didn't have to worry about a naval invasion. The Blackwater Bay was protected by the royal fleet, which is a bigger naval force than the North, the Vale, and the Stormlands' fleets combined. Though, if Aerion had a say, part of the royal fleet should be patrolling the Vale's coastal waters for suspicious activities right now.

For a few days, Aerion spent his time hovering over the massive map of the Seven Kingdoms in his study. He needed to anticipate who to trust and who to watch when the realm is at war.

Everything was tricky to predict, even for the Crownlands lords who are supposed to answer to the King. Much of the southern crownlands, including Massey's Hook, used to be part of the Stormlands, and so, historical ties may cause unanticipated ramifications.

In the spirit of keeping the Grandisons and the Rykkers notified, Aerion had sent word to both Houses after his called his banners. He truthfully explained what happened at court, and what he was worried about for the Crownlands. He had told both Houses that he called his banners and will be preparing for war.

It was a risk to share the information, Aerion knew. House Rykker has always been faithful to the Crown, but House Grandison is part of the Stormlands. Aerion counted on the friendship between Stonedance and Grandview to sway the Grandisons to his side, or at least for House Grandison and their allies to stay neutral in the conflict.

He received replies from Renfred Rykker and Lorent thanking him for the information, though no reply from Lord Hugh Grandison. Lord Renfred pledged that he will stock up resources at Duskendale and assemble his garrison for whatever that may come up.

Lorent wrote about how his lord father was troubled by the turn of the events. Lord Hugh struggled between his familial loyalty to the Baratheons of Storm's End, and his personal loyalty to Aerion and Aerion's forefathers.

Aerion knew better than to pressure Lord Hugh for his decision. If Lord Hugh needed time to consider, then Aerion would respect that – it is better to have House Grandison stay out of the conflict than to push them to the opposition.

Weighing the military strength of the noble Houses around him, Aerion sighed. _A bigger army will work better than any further plans that he can make_. At the end of the day, people surrendered to military might more quickly than to reasoning or moral charge.

Aerion thought that he should at least try to gather more men. Specifically, he had his eyes on Dragonstone's banners in the region. Prince Rhaegar is nowhere to be found and had left no regent on Dragonstone in his absence. But the Houses sworn to Dragonstone could gather thousands of men.

Aerion wondered if Princess Elia and the Dragonstone's Maester could move some lords to join his cause.

It would be easier to assemble troops if the King called his banners, but the King was too blind with pride to even consider that half of the realm might rise in rebellion.

Aerion drafted a new letter to Dragonstone. He asked Princess Elia to persuade her husband's banners to start battle preparations – if not in her name, then in Rhaegar's heir, Prince Aegon's name. He outlined his reasoning and the urgency of the issue at hand.

Aerion immediately had the letter sent out by raven. If he could get the help of even one or two of Prince Rhaegar's vassals, he would be more confident setting up defences in the southern Crownlands.

Aerion cursed under his breath once more when his thoughts drifted to the missing Crown Prince. Did the consequences of his actions slip his mind when he decided to take off with Lady Lyanna? Or worse, did Rhaegar not care about the unrest that he will cause?

Aerion shook his head and laughed bitterly. Prince Rhaegar has disappeared for long enough, he needs to come back and fix his own mess. If the Prince is at all mentally sound, he should be sending word to the Red Keep and Dragonstone by now.

At nightfall, Aerion had received a prompt reply from Dragonstone. The Princess has agreed to ask Rhaegar's bannermen, at least the ones close to Stonedance, to prepare their own garrisons. It was not a formal call of banners, but more of an order to prepare and aid Stonedance if they are able.

"I trust that you are loyal to Prince Rhaegar and his children." The Princess has written, "The kindness and goodwill that you've shown to my family were never more apparent than during this crisis. Dragonstone's bannermen will answer to you, Lord Aerion, for whatever that you see fit."

Princess Elia's neat script warmed Aerion's heart. Everything that he was doing is in the best interest of the Crown, and Aerion was grateful for the Princess's confidence in him.

Gently setting the letter on top of the spread-out map, Aerion rested his hands on the edges of his table. He looked over Massey's Hook and surrounding islands, where the Dragonstone vassals of House Velaryon, House Bar Emmon, and House Sunglass ruled.

He allowed a small smile after he estimated that the three Houses, along with minor lords, would supply around two thousand more men to defend the capital.

He glanced over the rest of the Crownlands and the Stormlands quickly, when a new idea hit him. He placed his glass of water down to consider the idea's merit and risks.

"Send for Ser Bryce and Maester Kelhmon!" He called to his guards outside of the opened doors of his study.

He stood and paced around the room in anticipation. He closed his eyes and thought long and hard about how he will approach the opportunity. He thought about exactly what he wanted to achieve out of his trip.

Ser Bryce and Maester Kelhmon came to their lord quickly. They walked in one after the other and approached the standing Lord of Stonedance.

"My lord?" Ser Bryce asked.

Aerion smiled and pulled back his chair, "Sit." He gestured at his two advisors.

After they took their seats, Aerion started, "My bannermen will take another week or so to assemble at Stonedance. There is not much to do other than to wait."

When the Maester and castellan nodded in agreement, Aerion continued, "Help me greet my bannermen and settle them in. Explain what happened in King's Landing and our plans to defend the Crownlands from an invasion. Start the training for all our troops while you wait for me."

"What? Are you leaving for somewhere, my lord?" The Maester looked concerned.

"Yes, I plan to ride for Stonehelm. It usually takes a week each way, but I will take only a handful of guards and fast horses. I aim to be back in ten days."

"Stonehelm, my lord? Will it be safe?" Ser Bryce could not understand why Aerion wanted to venture deep into the Stormlands during such sensitive times.

"Another ten days is not enough time for messages to reach all of the noble houses, even if Lord Jon Arryn and his wards called their banners tonight." It was a risk worth taking, the more Aerion thought about it, the more his idea made sense.

"My lord, would sailing be faster? It will help you avoid the mountains by the Dornish marshes." Maester Kelhmon suggested.

"I have considered sailing, but riding there is better for my intended purpose." Aerion narrowed his eyes and stared at the smaller roads that he will have to take to cut through the low mountains. "I will take Ser Grant, my squire, and less than ten guards. We will depart at daybreak."

"Yes, my lord. I will see to the preparations." Ser Bryce stood from his chair and dipped his head.

Maester Kelhmon studied the map in front of him and looked up to Aerion with a curious expression. Aerion wondered if the Maester had guessed what he was thinking – it doesn't matter, though, Aerion wanted to keep the plan to himself before it was confirmed for true.

* * *

_**Stonehelm, Stormlands, 282 AC** _

Aerion's grandfather, Lord Maegor, had been well-liked among the Crownlands and Stormlands nobles, and was keen on being friendly to every House. Accordingly, it was Lord Meagor who had taught a young Aerion the importance of maintaining alliances.

The older lord contended that maintaining alliances was more important than building new ones, and that you can only trust the friends who could stand the test of time.

As follows, it had puzzled a young Aerion regarding why his House almost never interacted with their ally through marriage – House Swann of Stonehelm.

Aerion had brought his questions to his mother, Lady Jeyne, and had hoped that she could provide some answers about her maiden House. However, Lady Jeyne would smile weakly at her son and give short and concise answers – never sharing more than what was asked.

As Aerion grew up, he figured out that his mother did not like to talk about her time at Stonehelm. He learned from his mother's handmaidens that Lady Jeyne and her brother, Lord Clifford, were terrified of their father growing up.

Even in adulthood, the siblings have not made peace with whatever trauma that tormented them. Just like when they were children, they would still maintain a stone silence in the presence of their lord father, Lord Gawen Swann.

That discovery had brought more questions than answers to Aerion. Seeing that Aerion was curious about his maternal kin, Lord Maegor had set up a small meeting between them to talk.

It was during that meeting when Lord Maegor shared an unsettling truth. _Lord Gawen Swann is a proud and ruthless man_. _He trusts almost no one, not even his children, and he rules his House with an iron fist._

At Stonehelm, no one spoke up against its Lord. Even Lord Clifford Swann, Aerion's uncle and the heir to Stonehelm, had little freedom in his family's keep. Lady Jeyne was glad to be married off – she almost didn't care where her husband's lands would be – as long as it helped her escape her childhood home.

Aerion had met his maternal grandfather once before, when he was younger, at a Stormlands tourney. He remembers kind smiles from his uncle, and a mild-mannered and thin-lipped man who was introduced as his grandfather. To a young boy, Lord Gawen was like any other stern-looking lord, though whenever he spoke, he commanded the attention of the room.

Recounting the information in his head, Aerion wondered if he acted too rashly when he decided to ride for Stonehelm. He wanted sway House Swann to be an ally in the brewing conflict, but he really didn't know what he should expect upon arrival.

Maybe he was wasting his time, and Lord Gawen would dismiss him before hearing him out. Aerion supposed that dismissal was better than imprisonment, on the off chance that Lord Gawen decides to seize a Targaryen to please his liege at Storm's End.

After hearing stories about how his grandfather treated his mother, uncle, and cousin, Aerion would not be surprised if Lord Gawen was not above manipulating his flesh and blood for his own advantage.

Besides, Lord Gawen hardly considered him a grandson, judging from the lack of correspondences between the two Houses. Lady Jeyne and her husband were not even invited to her brother's wedding as she became a complete outsider after her marriage.

Aerion swallowed back a pained laugh. How comical would it be if Aerion got himself imprisoned and presented on a platter to a vengeful Robert Baratheon, before the war even started? At a minimum, his efforts to defend the capital would have been in vain.

Aerion felt a tightness in his chest as he took in the imposing red sandstone castle ahead of him. After five days of riding, he believed that he was ready for whatever scrutiny or demands that Lord Gawen would hurl his way, but he felt uneasy, nevertheless.

Aerion has met many important lords before and has attended to the King for months on end, so he reasonably has little reason to fret. Especially since he was riding towards his _kin_ , and not his enemies.

This meeting has to go well. The stakes are too high for the Crown to lose Stonehelm. _No pressure._

His small party of ten rode up to the gate tower of the castle. Ser Grant and Terrence Celtigar were right behind Aerion, both slowing their horses. All of Aerion's retinue wore thick cloaks bearing the Stonedance sigil. Per Aerion's instructions, two guards in the back even carried full-sized Stonedance banners.

Hence, the corner of Aerion's lip twitched and he cocked an eyebrow when the castle guards yelled from the wall.

"Who approaches Stonehelm castle?"

Aerion peered over to the captain of his guards to answer. "Lord Aerion Targaryen of Stonedance, seeking an audience with Lord Gawen Swann!"

They were some murmurs up on the gate wall, but no one answered back. Aerion could make out a Stonehelm guard who rushed away, probably to report to an official or his lord.

They waited for a short while before both gates slowly opened before them. A young lord, only a few years older than Aerion, walked out to greet the Stonedance retinue with some servants.

"Cousin Gulian, it has been too long." Aerion climbed off his horse and smiled at the young man. Aerion last saw his cousin a few years ago in King's Landing, when Gulian was there for business.

"Lord Aerion, what a surprise. My father and grandfather were not expecting you." Lord Gulian Swann pulled his lips into a small smile and looked nervous.

"I must apologize for not sending word in advance. I do have important matters to discuss with his lordship and could not spare much time."

"No trouble at all, Stonehelm is always happy to have you." Gulian Swann's smile was reserved and disappeared quickly.

They walked through the castle courtyard and most of Aerion's guards were greeted by Stonehelm guards to tend to their horses. Aerion only had Ser Grant with him as Lord Gulian led the pair deeper into the castle's main tower.

Aerion assumed that he was being taken to Lord Gawen. "I am happy to wait if Lord Gawen is busy at the moment."

"Grandfather and father were meeting with the Maester, but they were finishing up. I was bid to take you to the study right away in case your matters were pressing."

"Thank you, Gulian. I hope Lord Gawen and Lord Clifford are both well?"

Gulian smiled politely, "They are very well. Thank you for asking."

They came to a stop in a bright corridor, with lots of sunlight shining in from large casement windows.

"Grandfather and father are just down the hall, through the first door." Gulian pointed to Aerion's destination.

"You won't be joining us?" Aerion had expected that Gulian will be present.

"No, I haven't been asked to join in." Gulian shook his head. "I'm sure we will have an opportunity to catch up afterwards. All the best … Aerion."

Gulian quickly turned and walked back in the direction they came from, as if he wanted to get away from the study.

Aerion steadied his breath and glanced at Ser Grant. They exchanged a nod in understanding and approached the closed doors of the Lord's study.

The study was dim and cool, a contrast to the warm corridor outside. Two men sat by a dark walnut long table, that had a flask of wine and pieces of parchment laying on top.

Lord Gawen Swann stood as the newcomers entered the room. He was tall and thin, with a beardless face and dark grey eyes.

Aerion's uncle, Lord Clifford, sat in his wheelchair and looked up from his lap to Aerion. He gave a small smile before staring back at the table before him.

Lord Clifford was crippled at a tourney in the Reach almost a decade ago. He rarely left Stonehelm before his injury, and after his paralysis, he became even more withdrawn. He preferred to keep to his quarters at Stonehelm and have his father and son manage most of the household.

Aerion closed the door behind him after Ser Grant slipped into the study. His captain of the guards stayed silently by the door while Aerion walked up to the long table.

Lord Gawen used the time to examine his grandson, the young Lord of Stonedance. He offered a thin smile as Aerion got closer. He dipped his head towards one of the empty seats. "Lord Aerion, I should admit that you caught us by surprise. Do sit down."

Aerion returned a warm smile and looked at both men in turn, "Lord Gawen, Lord Clifford. I apologize for the abrupt visit. Thank you for hosting me so quickly."

"It's always a pleasure to hear from your House. How is Stonedance? I trust there are no issues?"

Lord Gawen and Aerion both sat down. Aerion straightened himself in his chair. "Stonedance is well, my lord. I appreciate your kind thoughts."

Lord Gawen leaned back in his chair and made plain eye contact with Aerion, waiting for the younger lord to explain his sudden appearance in the Stormlands.

Aerion relaxed his shoulders as much as he can. He needed to get a sense of Lord Gawen's current standpoint on court events.

"Grandfather, you have heard about what happened to Lord Rickard Stark and Lord Brandon Stark." It wasn't a question, for Lord Gawen is certainly aware of the developments in King's Landing.

Lord Gawen's lips formed half a sneer. He narrowed his eyes but spoke softly. "I did. I think the entire realm is aware by now, about how our King dispenses justice."

Aerion tapped on the side of his leg under the table. He ventured, "And that the King ordered the Lord of the Eyrie to hand over his wards, Lord Eddard and Lord Robert?"

Lord Gawen didn't answer but looked intently at Aerion. Aerion's uncle kept his eyes fixed at the section of the table where he was staring.

Aerion sighed softly and decided to be more direct. "Lord Arryn would not sit around and be harassed by his grace. He will call his banners, if not for his wards, then for the Vale."

Lord Gawen didn't look surprised at Aerion's conclusion. He crossed his arms and countered, "The Warden of the East is an honorable man, both his past actions and the words of his House demonstrate that fact. I would count on him to respect the wishes of his King."

Aerion almost rolled his eyes at his grandfather's assertion. "Lord Arryn's honor is exactly why he will protect his wards and call for war. He is not a man to give up the innocent to their certain atrocious execution."

His grandfather pursed his lips. "A rebellion will be fruitless; the best Lord Jon Arryn can do is to close off the Vale and fortify the Bloody Gate."

"But he won't just have the Vale, would he? His wards are heirs to two more Kingdoms in the realm. Eddard Stark just needs to sail to White Harbour, and Robert Baratheon just needs to reach Storm's End before they raise tens of thousands of men in arms."

Lord Gawen cocked his eyebrow casually, unaffected by the seriousness in Aerion's tone.

Aerion placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Grandfather, let's speak frankly. The realm will be at war in the next turn of the moon and thousands of fighting men and smallfolk will perish."

"What will you have me do? My House has been sworn to the Baratheons of Storm's End for as long as people can remember." Lord Gawen paused before he spoke his words. He still held Aerion's gaze. "I will do what my liege commands, _if_ he decides to call on my service."

"My lord, I would implore you to reconsider. Stay loyal to the Crown and persuade your allies to do the same – a rebellion is not the answer to this."

Lord Gawen snorted, but kept his tone calm and even. "Why? Why should I be faithful to a King who's hateful and sadistic?"

Aerion opened his mouth to reply but Lord Gawen waved him off, "Before you say that the Crown Prince will be the voice of reason and a wise King when his time comes – I haven't forgotten that he started this entire crisis."

"Prince Rhaegar will be a good King, he has always been kind and thoughtful. He only made a misjudgment with Lady Lyanna, a misjudgment that he _will resolve and amend_."

A genuinely amused smile tugged at Lord Gawen's lips. "My contacts tell me that no one knows where Prince Rhaegar is, even though the whole realm searches for him. You can't even promise me that he will be there to put down your hypothesized rebellion, Aerion."

Aerion winced at the mention of the search for Rhaegar but held his stance, "Grandfather, the Prince _will_ defend his realm, along with four loyal Kingdoms and their bannermen. We will outnumber any rebel forces and the have moral authority. From a practical standpoint, Stonehelm is best off remaining loyal to the Crown."

Lord Gawen reached for a quill and stroked the feather nonchalantly. "I have no basis to help the Targaryen cause, Aerion, especially not over my duty to serve the Baratheons. Your father saw to that when he mistreated my daughter – leaving her alone at Stonedance for all those years and causing her an early death from grief."

Aerion gave a slight grimace. Lord Gawen held a serious resentment for his goodson, Daeron Targaryen. He was frustrated at Daeron's absence and detachment from court affairs. The marriage union between House Swann and Stonedance has brought very little of the power, influence, or wealth that Lord Gawen had expected from the royal family.

Though, Lady Jeyne has repeatedly said that she adored her time at Stonedance. She had complete freedom in running her household and arranging her sons' upbringing. She also found affection with her husband; even though he was mostly away, they often corresponded and sent gifts to each other.

"Grandfather, I will apologize for my lord father's actions – my mother deserved more companionship in her marriage." Aerion replied after a brief pause. "But we are kin. Blood runs thicker than other alliances."

"Hmmm." Lord Gawen shrugged. He leaned back in his chair casually and crossed his arms.

When the Lord of Stonehelm didn't respond after a few minutes. Aerion blinked and tried again. "The Stormlands – _the realm_ – remembers the bond between our Houses, grandfather."

"You made sure of that, didn't you? When you rode through the Stormlands bearing unmistakable _Targaryen_ banners? Every House who is not blind to their surroundings could see that you were riding for my House."

Aerion bit on his lip. That was his intention behind riding to Stonehelm instead of sailing. He would not deny it.

"You think that will force my hand, boy?" Lord Gawen snorted. "Sure, Storm's End may be more suspicious of my allegiance, but supplying five thousand fighting men between myself and my bannermen will win Lord Robert to my side, I have no doubt in that."

Aerion offered a weak smile. Military power commanded the negotiation; he could not force House Swann to do anything. "My lord, an uprising is not the solution to the problem. Why risk your House for a dubious cause? Fight for the Crown and we will secure absolute victory – and the Crown rewards loyalty generously."

Lord Gawen cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Are you proposing certain rewards if I side with the Crown?"

Aerion swallowed. "The Hand of the King, my lord. Or raising House Swann as the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, as the Baratheons will be traitors." He will have to ask Prince Rhaegar sometime later. He hoped that the Prince would appreciate having Stonehelm on their side.

Stonehelm was probably the most powerful Stormlands House after the Baratheons. They would threaten Storm's End from the south, while the Crownlands royalists loomed from the north. Aerion could see that Lord Gawen was ambitious and cunning; he needed to frame the alliance as an opportunity for House Swann to rise higher.

His grandfather laughed and tossed his head back. "Don't make any promises that you can't keep, Aerion." He shook his head.

Aerion confirmed his offer, "I will do everything that I can to persuade the Crown Prince and the King on your behalf, my lord. You have my word."

The men around the table took several breaths in silence. Lord Clifford still hasn't said a word, though he shifted in his chair and wrung his hands in his lap.

Lord Gawen narrowed his eyes in thought. "I will not have my castle besieged and attacked by Stormslands troops."

Taking Lord Gawen's words as a sign that he was willing to negotiate, Aerion suppressed an eager smile, "Of course, my lord. I only ask that Stonehelm calls its banners but not move to join the Stormlands main forces. Hold out and wait for Lord Robert to march his army out of the Stormlands as they seek to consolidate with their allies in the north."

"Hold out? What if Lord Robert becomes furious with me and marches to Stonehelm to make an example of me? To demonstrate the consequences of disloyalty?"

Aerion took a deep breath. "That is unlikely. Lord Robert will have my forces and more Crownlands forces pressing from the north, and your forces unreliable to the south. He will not risk being closed in to pursue Stonehelm behind a mountain range; he will march into the Reach and head north as fast as he can."

Lord Gawen considered that as he tapped against the table with his finger. "Assuming that Lord Robert will move as you say. What will you have me do after?"

Aerion smiled confidently. "Lord Robert will still be unsure whether you are just slow in gathering your troops or if you have other plans. Send him ravens to assure him that you will follow behind him. Hold out until he cannot march back in a timely manner, like when he reaches the southern Riverlands."

Aerion continued. "By then, the Stormlands will consist of empty seats and a lone Storm's End. I would ask you to besiege Storm's End. I am not naïve enough to think that we can penetrate its defences, but we can surround the Baratheon family seat to unnerve him."

Lord Gawen grabbed his quill and ran his fingers through the feather once more. "What you said could work. But again, if I follow Lord Robert faithfully, I am sure that my House will be compensated handsomely all the same."

Aerion shook his head. "If the rebels prevail, they will suffer from a fractured leadership. Lord Arryn is the older and more experienced ruler, and Lord Stark holds the biggest territory and has justified grievances for his father and brother. What would Lord Baratheon have, aside from offering help? Storm's End will gain very little, as will the rest of the Stormlands Houses."

"Lord Robert Baratheon has a natural talent for strategy and war, and will be playing a much more important role than what you've described. I don't believe for a second that he will sit passively while the other Kingdoms divide up any gains."

"Lord Robert is untested, grandfather. He is impulsive and gullible – you would trust your House in his hands?"

Aerion prayed that the Lord of Stonehelm will be swayed by his arguments. He is downplaying the threat that the impending rebellion posed, so he hoped that his grandfather was willing to take some decent risks to advance his power.

Lord Gawen glanced around the room as he made up his mind. He looked to his son, Lord Clifford, but the latter was still staring at the table, as silent as stone.

Aerion added quietly before Lord Gawen became more hesitant. "House Swann has more to gain as a savior of the realm putting down a rebellion than being an ordinary vassal fighting for their lord's ambitions."

Slowly, Lord Gawen allowed, "I will not openly oppose the Baratheons until they reach the Riverlands."

At Aerion's nod, Lord Gawen continued, "I want to be raised to Lord Paramount when this is all over. You will do everything in your power to make that happen."

"I demand to double the bannermen who are sworn directly to me and receive a sizable share of Storm's End's income for a decade."

Those were conditions that Aerion was willing to accept. Though, he did have a condition of his own. Lord Gawen Swann has, as expected, thrown his familial loyalties to the Baratheons out the window. He is an opportunist and Aerion would be cautious in dealing with him.

Aerion maintained a polite smile, "Grandfather, I do have one more ask of you, before we have a firm deal."

Lord Gawen's head turned to him.

"I would ask cousin Gulian to ride back to Stonedance with me. Stonedance is almost impenetrable, he will be safer there." Aerion's voice did not waver when Lord Gawen's eyes turned hard and cold.

The older lord slammed his elbows on the table and accused with a sneer of disdain, "You don't trust me?"

"There is a risk that Stonehelm will be besieged. Lord Gulian will be safer on Massey's Hook. I will protect his safety above all, rest assured, grandfather."

Lord Gawen scoffed at Aerion's poor explanation and stretched his fingers. His head snapped to Lord Clifford and he barked, "Clifford! Aerion wants to hold your son and heir, what say you?"

Lord Clifford glanced up when his name was called and took in the scene calmly. He dipped his head to his lord father, "I trust your judgment, father." He murmured.

Lord Gawen shook his head incredulously. He scorned, "Useless and pathetic! You can't even pull yourself together to protect your son."

Lord Clifford said nothing and scratched the tip of his nose. He returned to staring at his section of the table.

Lord Gawen curled his lips in disgust at his son. He grabbed the edges of the table and his eyes moved frantically as he tallied the risks and gains for such a deal.

When Lord Gawen spoke up, both he and Aerion took a deep breath. "Gulian will stay in the castle at all times. He will not be sent to scout, deliver messages, or do anything that might put him in danger. Even if the fighting gets to the castle gates, he will not leave his quarters to help. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Gulian is the future of House Swann, Aerion could understand Lord Gawen's concern. "I will not allow any harm to cousin Gulian, I promise."

"And you will sail back to Stonedance from here, on a modest boat without showing your cursed banners! I will not have Storm's End doubt my allegiance so soon."

Aerion was happy to accept these arrangements. It will be a safer journey for his entire retinue, granted Lord Gawen devised it to protect Gulian Swann.

"Thank you, my lord. I believe we have a firm deal." Aerion smiled warmly at his grandfather. "I foresee great success with what we have planned today."

"You spent all those years following the Crown Prince behind his heels; I thought you've gone foolish and pretentious, just like him." Lord Gawen scoffed, his eyes held no warmth as he gazed at Aerion, "At least Lord Maegor managed to teach _some things_ to you before it was too late."


	11. Songs of Swords

**Author's Note:**

Hi all! Thank you for reading. I got a little busy this week so this new chapter was delayed by a day or two - so thank you all for your patience and understanding!

* * *

**Chapter 11: Songs of Swords**

_**Stonedance, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

The Stormlands certainly deserve its name. Aerion and Gulian Swann's caravel had planned to sail through the Straits of Tarth to save time on their return trip, but dark clouds looming on the horizon had alarmed their Stonehelm captain.

The middle-aged mariner pled with Aerion to turn the ship around right away, before wild winds crash their vessel against the rocky shores. Aerion thought better than to go against his captain's advice and gave a prompt command.

After all, his captain was handpicked by Lord Gawen to ensure the safety of Lord Gulian Swann, the sole heir to Stonehelm. The captain took his job very seriously with good reason – Aerion had overheard Lord Gawen threaten the captain with the lives of his entire family if something went astray.

The captain's worries became a reality soon enough. They were sailing around the Sapphire Isle to hug its eastern coast up north when the waters suddenly turned rough. Lightning could be heard from a distance, and more dark clouds seemed to drift towards the Strait that they've fled from. Aerion had thanked the older man for his wise counsel at the sudden change of weather.

The change of course set Aerion's party back five days. The delay and boredom on the ship made Aerion agitated, as he wanted to get home quicker and regroup with his bannermen. While Lord Gulian was a pleasant travel companion, Aerion was entirely too stressed to enjoy the view or the food as they cruised.

The boat pulled up to Stonedance's docks in the early morning. From the deck of the caravel, Aerion let out a long breath that he was holding. By his side, Gulian Swann stared at the castle on the cliff in wonder, having never visited Stonedance before.

"How do you even get up there?"

Aerion chuckled and pointed towards an area behind the dock's guard towers. "You can't see it from here, but there's a small opening to a cave. We have a lift inside that takes to right up to the castle courtyard."

Gulian's eyes widened and double-checked the full height of the cliff. "That's amazing. I wouldn't have imagined it possible, to build such a thing."

Aerion smiled in amusement, "Indeed. My Maester told me that House Massey spent a century shaping the chute and perfecting the system. As a child, I would ride the lift for fun when servants transported our provisions."

Aerion was happy to introduce Stonedance to his cousin. Lord Gulian was about to stay with them for an uncertain length of time, and he would need to know his way around.

"Come on, let's get you and your men settled."

Gulian Swann nodded enthusiastically and stifled a yawn. He was experiencing seasickness from the rocking waters and was looking forward to a proper featherbed.

The Lord of Stonedance nodded at the guards who came out of the towers to greet him. He led Ser Grant, Gulian, and two Stonehelm guards toward the lift.

They would go up to the castle first, while the rest of the entourage collected their belongings off the caravel. Aerion assumed that the captain and sailors have been ordered to return to Stonehelm and report back their safe arrival.

The case that carried the passengers up the lift gave a muffled thud as it reached the castle courtyard level. Guards were already waiting to open the steel fence doors for the riders to step out.

Aerion looked around for his Maester and castellan, but did not find either of his officials in the busy courtyard. His courtyard had more crafts tables set up, ranging from repair stations for armor and weapons to brewing stations for herbal medicine.

After a quick glance, he could see armed guards crossing the courtyard bearing House Bywater and House Edgerton sigils on their shields or cloaks. At least two of his bannermen have arrived, which is good news.

Aerion turned to his cousin, who was also looking around the courtyard. "Cousin Gulian, I will call for servants to help you move into the east tower; it's the furthest from the castle gates in case there is an attack."

Lord Gulian shrugged casually, "Aerion, my grandfather was overly cautious with what he said to you. I am happy to help if you ever need a hand, and that includes leading a team to scout or to set up an ambush in the Kingswood."

Aerion could not think of a worse idea than letting Gulian Swann participate in military operations. Not that he lacked confidence in the young lord's abilities; rather, he worried about how Lord Gawen would have his head if something goes wrong.

Aerion smiled, "I appreciate that, Gulian, but it will make me feel better if you are further away from danger. You are welcome to explore the castle as you wish, or join my bannermen in training our troops. But check in with me if you plan to leave the castle premises."

Aerion waved two servants who were nearby and bid them to lead the Stonehelm party to the east tower. He ordered for fresh linens, towels, and food and drink to be brought up as well.

"Sure, Aerion." Gulian nodded, "I'll let you run your castle; I might take a nap and go find little Baelor later in the day, I haven't seen him for years!"

"Baelor will be delighted to see you and show you around." Aerion smiled and nodded at the servants.

The small group began to cross the courtyard for the east tower. Aerion could hear a Stonedance servant quietly explain the layout of the castle towers to an engaged Gulian Swann.

Glancing around the courtyard once more, Aerion wondered where he could find his Maester and castellan. He had just stepped out of the lift, so it was too soon for his servants to report to the castle officials of his arrival. He could wait where he is, or he can look around for the men.

It was still the early morning, so Aerion decided to try the main dining hall. Maybe his officials and bannermen were breaking their fast. Ser Grant followed behind him as they walked.

The main dining hall was a lot busier than usual. For a small household, Stonedance usually had a head table set up and two large long tables running perpendicular from the dais to host guests.

After Aerion's bannermen started arriving, however, three more long tables were squeezed in to run from the front of the hall to the back, which allowed hundreds more of guests.

Aerion walked by crowds of soldiers and knights who were enjoying their meals. A handful of knights and lords noticed his arrival and dipped their heads or stood up in greeting. But most of the hall was unaware of the Lord of Stonedance's appearance and continued with their lively chatter.

Approaching the head table, Aerion made out Maester Kelhmon and Ser Bryce, who were conversing with Lord Celyn Bywater. If Aerion remembered correctly, Lord Celyn is Ser Wilfred Bywater's older cousin.

Ser Bryce was the one who realized Aerion's arrival. "My lord!" He laid his glass back onto the table and stood up.

The Maester and Lord Celyn followed to stand, "My lord!" Maester Kelhmon smiled while Lord Celyn rubbed his hands on his trousers.

Aerion gestured for all of them to take their seats and popped onto a vacant chair himself. Suddenly hungry, he called out to a servant for bread and bacon for himself and Ser Grant.

"My lord, we are very glad to see your return. We were debating whether we should send ships to search down to the Strait of Tarth for you, when you were delayed longer than expected." Maester Kelhmon turned to Aerion with a concerned look.

"We had to avoid a storm, so that caused a slight delay." Aerion shifted in his chair for a more comfortable posture. "What has been the news while I was at sea?"

The Maester's eyebrows drew tight, "You were right about Lord Arryn's reaction, my lord. We received confirmation three days ago from both Lord Varys and the Grand Maester that Lord Arryn has called all of his banners. Accounting for message delays, Lord Jon probably declared at least five days ago. The King has called his banners too, as of two days ago."

Aerion nodded. He expected as much. The Vale's Houses would be preparing their garrisons and raising peasant levies, which could take a moon or longer before they are ready to march. The King's call would take some time to spread across the realm, and then all seven kingdoms will be preparing for war.

"Gulltown refused Lord Arryn's call and warned the capital of what was happening." The Maester paused and sighed heavily, "But Gulltown's defence was crushed by Lord Jon with half of the Eyrie's garrison. Lord Marq Grafton was slain by Robert Baratheon's hand and Gulltown had to surrender."

Aerion leaned forward in his chair, "The Eyrie moved that fast?!"

Maester Kelhmon rubbed his temple, "Aye, Lord Jon probably anticipated Lord Grafton's loyalty to the Crown. Lord Varys' little birds reported that Lord Jon marched for Gulltown with the faster cavalry legion the day after he called his banners."

Aerion clenched his fist. House Grafton was a prominent House in the Vale. After their defeat, it would be hard to prompt other noble Houses to stay faithful to the Crown. Lord Jon Arryn would unite the Vale behind him, and Aerion could not fragment their forces as he could do to the Baratheons in the Stormlands.

"The Vale is still vast, and its wild terrains make it difficult to move an army and supplies. We still have at least a moon or two before they march down the high road." Ser Bryce added.

Aerion was more worried about Jon Arryn's wards, "What word of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon? Are they still in the Vale?"

"The King and the Small Council believe that Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon could not have left the Vale so fast. The King commanded a sizeable portion of the royal fleet to blockade ships and boats of all sizes from leaving the Vale."

Aerion thought about the timeline of Jon Arryn's call and the King's command. He clasped his hands together, "If there haven't been sightings of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon in the Vale, then they've left already… they would have left the moment they had access to Gulltown's port. The royal fleet will find nothing."

"That was my worry, my lord." Ser Bryce cleared his throat and continued, "I have been looking out for rumors about how the Vale is organizing and training its troops, and so far, there has been no mention of the young Stark and Baratheon lords. Surely they would be helping if they are still in the Vale."

Aerion ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "No matter, they were bound to get away anyway. There are too many ports in the Vale and the coastal waters are too vast for the royal fleet to patrol thoroughly."

"Aye, my lord. Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon will keep a low profile before reaching their family seats, which could take some time. After they're there, they will need more time to call their banners and wait for the men to assemble. We have an advantage for being prepared."

Aerion nodded, "Did the King give any details of strategy when he called his banners?"

"The King's message is quite broad at the moment, as the Small Council is still working out the coordination between different region's forces. The rough plan is that the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and the northern Crownlands will fight against the North and the Vale. The Reach and the southern Crownlands will repel the Stormlands rebels. Dorne will focus on crossing the Stone Way and then join in with the Reach. Hopefully, the rebel armies will not congregate – we will have two distinct battlefronts."

"Any specific commands for Massey's Hook and Stonedance?"

"Only two or three lines from the letter, my lord. Our House and House Wendwater are the biggest Houses in the region, we are to lead the smaller nobles and hold the Kingsroad against a Stormlands march. The Small Council expects us to mainly defend, and leave the Reach's bigger army to go against the main Baratheon forces."

The plan made sense, as it played to each kingdom's geographical proximities. Aerion was also glad that the Small Council did not direct his forces to initiate any attacks; at least the Red Keep had a sense of how outnumbered his men would be.

"Any word of the Crown Prince?" Aerion prayed that Prince Rhaegar would be in contact by now, since the Vale has formally declared war.

"Still nothing." Ser Bryce tapped on the table in thought, "Should we call back the majority of our search party, my lord? We would need the men if we were to set up defences or fortify keeps and castles."

Aerion hummed in thought. "Tell the riders to keep searching until the turn of the moon. After that, they should ride back to Massey's Hook."

Ser Grant grunted, "I will send messengers to let the captains know, my lord."

"Good." Aerion picked up pieces of bacon with a fork, "How many of my bannermen have arrived thus far?"

Ser Bryce straightened to reply, "House Bywater and House Holme were the first to arrive, six days ago, and House Edgerton arrived three days ago. House Rambton's messenger says that their legion is almost ready to march, and will get to Stonedance in four days' time. The rest of the minor knights will reach us in the next week."

Aerion smiled kindly to Lord Celyn, who has been listening to their earlier conversation, "Thank you, my lord, for gathering your men so quickly."

Lord Celyn smiled shyly and scratched the side of his arm, "It was the least I could do, Lord Aerion. House Bywater is ready for anything that you need."

Aerion smiled appreciatively at the older lord and looked around the hall, "Do we have enough tents to accommodate the rest of the men? Have we started on large scale training sessions?"

"We have enough accommodations, my lord. Every household brought their own camp gear as well, and more supplies to compile. We started the infantry training for peasant levies five days ago, under Ser Holme, while Xorru has been training crossbowmen and archers on the far field."

"That's good. We will have at least a moon's time to train before the Stormlands can gather their levies and garrisons. Any extra time on the training fields helps give our men a better chance of surviving the war."

Maester Kelhmon nodded in agreement. "The peasant levies usually have never seen battle or combat injury. I have instructed some of our more experienced guards to teach them how to tend to common wounds, as they will see many more of those soon enough."

Aerion nodded, "What does our final number look like? After House Rambton and the others arrive?"

"Counting in Stonedance's garrison, we will have eighteen hundred cavalrymen, four hundred infantrymen, and about four hundred peasant levies. We have extra horses and weapons to arm two hundred infantrymen into cavalrymen if we need, though they will be less experienced."

Aerion pursed his lips in thought. Cavalrymen are usually superior to infantrymen and would allow him more flexibility to move around the region. He would count on the cavalry legion to make ambushes and surprise attacks, whereas the infantry could guard key posts along the Kingsroad and play in defensive.

"My lord, Dragonstone's vassals, House Sunglass and House Velaryon, have indicated that they will join our forces. They will bring a total of six hundred spearmen and two hundred peasant levies."

That caught Aerion's attention and he turned to Ser Bryce, "That is great news! The Small Council gave no specific commands for Dragonstone's banners? They are free to join me?"

"Lord Sunglass told us that he has received no commands from the capital, so he will honor Princess Elia's wishes and help our cause. His keep is close to us and will head over whenever he is ready to march. Lord Monford Velaryon has expressed similar thoughts." Ser Bryce smiled.

Aerion narrowed his eyes slightly, as they were missing another prominent House in the region, "And what of House Bar Emmon?"

There was a slight pause and Ser Bryce cleared his throat, "We haven't heard from Sharp Point at all, my lord. Though, our scouts say that House Bar Emmon has called their banners after the King called banners."

Aerion considered the information as he turned his toasted bread in his hand. He had only a faint impression of Lord Bar Emmon, from many years ago in King's Landing. Even though Sharp Point is only a few hours' ride away, House Bar Emmon did not interact with its neighbors all that much.

The Maester spoke up, "Perhaps House Bar Emmon needs more time to organize themselves. I would assume that they were hit by the King's call in surprise, and will need to procure supplies first and foremost for their secluded castle."

Aerion supposed that Maester Kelhmon's reasoning made sense. He shook his head and dismissed the issue, "You're right. Let's wait for House Rambton, House Sunglass, and the rest of the knights and household. When everyone is here, we can call for a formal meeting to outline our strategy. We can focus on training and organizing our supplies for the time being."

* * *

_**Hasty Keep, Stormlands, 282 AC** _

House Hasty's family seat, Hasty Keep, was dark grey and looked weathered by natural elements and time. It followed a simple design, with a small ring of curtain walls and a small watchtower by the gatehouse. Below the keep's walls, there was a wide dip in the dirt of a few inches deep that went along the castle walls. The shallow ditch was filled with mud and puddles and looked like what was left of an ancient moat that had eroded away.

The building sat in a small clearing at the end of a trail. A small patch of forest and farmlands laid beyond the keep, while a narrow river ran along to its right side. There seems to be only one entrance in and out of the keep, which was the gatehouse.

Aerion studied the castle from his horse as he and his men rode up the rugged trail. The party of fifteen hundred, all dressed in thick leather armor and steel helmets, were slowly making their way in a neat formation. Behind them was another patch of dense forest where they've emerged.

Aerion had bid his men to stash their banners until they were closing in on the keep. So now that the keep was within sight, full sized banners of Stonedance, House Bywater, House Rambton, and House Edgerton began to wave in the wind throughout the formation.

To the guards in Hasty Keep, the sight was most likely daunting and horrific. An army of fully equipped cavalry had appeared out of thin air, and was just minutes away from surrounding their keep.

Aerion could make out a line of guards peering out with their heads and trying to get a better look, probably to estimate the size of the approaching force and what to report to their lord. They were perhaps also mystified about how their scouts could have missed an entire enemy legion marching in their direction.

Aerion smiled inside his helmet as they reached closer to the keep, and no extra guards or mounted crossbows were added at the sight of the incoming threat. It looks like they've caught House Hasty wholly unprepared, which should make their item of business a lot simpler and bloodless.

That was the entire point – _to intimidate minor Houses in the northern Stormlands and compel them to remain loyal to the Crown._ The sieges would have to be done on a small scale, House after House, one by one, as Aerion could not overpower a congregated Stormlands army with his smaller legion. Aerion also understood that the strategy could only work at the beginning of the war, when most Stormlands Houses were still struggling to gather their soldiers and levies.

For the strategy to work smoothly, Aerion needed both the element of surprise and absolute advantage in numbers against each House's defences. To arrive at Hasty Keep without alarming House Hasty scouts, Aerion spent three extra days circling a dense and thick forest to emerge from the opposite direction that he would have come from.

The Stormlands has been in utter chaos since Lord Robert's return and his call for banners, and Aerion has used the situation to an advantage. Noble Houses were all consumed with contacting their own bannermen and making war preparations that very few are actively patrolling their forests and borders. The situation has made it easier for Aerion's legion to sneak deeper into the Stormlands undetected.

They had originally planned to set up defences along the Crownlands stretch of the Kingsroad, and wait for House Wendwater allies to mobilize, but Lord Rambton had suggested a new tactic. The cavalry legion was ready to ride out, so why not weaken the enemy while they had the chance?

They could surround the less powerful nobles in their family seats and coerce their surrender. The more keeps that they could overwhelm, the fewer soldiers and levies Robert Baratheon would secure.

Aerion agreed with Lord Rambton's assessment and heard no serious objection from his castle officials and other bannermen.

As Aerion assembled his forces to ride out of Stonedance, he sent his last letters to Grandview asking for Lord Hugh Grandison's stance between the Crown and the Baratheons - Lord Robert had formally called his banners, so Lord Grandison must choose where his loyalties lie.

To Aerion's immense relief, Lord Hugh replied promptly with a letter of his own hand. He expressed his deep struggle on the issue and how he knew that he could not waver between camps. In the end, he decided that House Grandison would stay loyal to the Crown and refuse Lord Robert's call. He would call his banners and focus on fortifying Grandview, and help defend the Kingsroad if needed.

Aerion had gone to Stonedance's Sept and thanked the Seven for Lord Hugh's decision. Grandview was one of the closest potentially hostile keeps, and Aerion could not avoid besieging Grandview if House Grandison chose to support their liege. It would be the last thing that Aerion wanted to do, to surround Lorent and Lord Hugh's family seat and see them as enemies.

In a better mood, Aerion had sent letters to House Wendwater and the Red Keep to confirm House Grandison's position, so they would be left alone by royalist forces. Afterwards, Aerion had walked into a last meeting with his bannermen to finalize their surprise attack target before departure.

They decided to try out the strategy with a landed knight household close to the Crownlands border. House Bolling held a small keep and was known to be loyal to their Baratheon liege, so the Bollings made a perfect trial target.

The Stonedance legion, led by Aerion, Ser Grant, and Lord Rambton, quietly surrounded the modest keep on top of a hill in the middle of the night. They had stayed far away to be out of arrows' range and relied on House Bolling's main tower, which had a large pit of fire burning atop for light.

House Bolling had woken up to an enemy army at their gates that numbered more than five times their garrison. Aerion did not attempt to attack, and his forces simply surrounded the castle in silence. By nightfall on the first day, his crossbowmen had shot down all seven ravens that the House Bolling Maester attempted to send. And upon review, the birds all carried messages for aid that were written in a tone of panic.

Aerion decided to let the household and garrison dwell in anguish and fear for a few days longer. He bid his forces to make camp and waited for House Bolling to realize that surrender was the only viable option.

On the fourth day, the keep gates opened and Ser Herbert Bolling walked out in plain clothes with a handful of guards. He vowed to stay out of the conflict between the Stormlands and the Crown, but would not be compelled to take up arms against his liege lord.

Aerion would honor the knight's decision. It was a fine balance between upholding House Bolling's vows to Storm's End and staying faithful to his rightful King.

To ensure that Ser Herbert cooperated, Aerion requested that Ser Herbert hand over his eldest son and heir, Darren Bolling. The teenager will be a guest at Stonedance until the rebellion dissolves.

Ser Herbert was pained by the request but had little choice. Aerion would need a token of accountability and taking Darren as a ward was the simplest arrangement. After some deliberation, Ser Herbert handed over his son to avoid an invasion of his family seat.

Aerion had instructed a company of fifty guards to escort young Darren and two Bolling servants back to Stonedance, along with instructions of where to house and secure his ward.

After their success with House Bolling, Aerion and Lord Rambton decided that House Hasty was the next closest target. It would also be on the way to House Errol of Haystack Hall, which was a bigger and more important threat that they wanted to neutralize.

After five days of trekking, they finally reached Hasty Keep. Aerion had never met Lord Bonifer Hasty before and wondered how the Stormlands lord will present himself.

On Aerion's side, Lord Rambton's sudden slow of his horse pulled Aerion from his musings. Aerion looked around and realized that the full legion had formed a wide semicircle around House Hasty's gatehouse, but was still carefully out of range of most arrows that would be fired from the walls.

Nodding to Lord Rambton, Aerion waved for the legion to make camp where they were. They would wait for House Hasty to react first, as Aerion strongly preferred a peaceful surrender to an attack. He dreaded to lose any men before the formal battles even began.

His legion sprung to action around him. Makeshift tents were erected and horses were tied to poles. While half of the legion worked to build camp, another half trained their loaded crossbows at the front gates and above the walls, in case Hasty Keep launched a charge.

Aerion and his retinue watched the keep and the surrounding landscape from horsebacks from the middle of the camp. He watched the top of the keep walls for any changes to their defence or any ravens emerging from the open windows of the rookery.

As the camp took shape around him, Aerion decided that there wasn't much to observe. Hasty Keep did not introduce any new defence weapons or troops to ward off his legion, nor did the Maester send out any ravens. In fact, someone in black robes had pulled the rookery's windows shut.

Aerion was slightly puzzled by House Hasty's reaction but shrugged off his questions. He estimated that it would take at least a few days for House Hasty to surrender, judging by the size of the keep and how much provisions they could store, and he was happy to play the waiting game without worrying too much.

In the late afternoon, Aerion was genuinely surprised when the Hasty Keep's gates opened wide and its archers retreated from the top of its watchtower and walls. Two men emerged from the bailey and rode towards Aerion's camp on naked horses with no chainmail or helm. One man wore plain robes and had shoulder length brown hair, while another slightly older man had an unmistakable Maester chain around his neck.

The line of Stonedance crossbowmen cleared a way to admit the pair when they climbed off their mounts and demonstrated that they were unarmed. A small group of soldiers escorted the pair towards Aerion and his commanders, hands resting on their sword pommels and hilts.

Aerion cocked his eyebrow at the scene in front of him with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The older man had to be House Hasty's Maester, and the other stranger could be the castellan or another keep official.

Aerion was genuinely impressed with Ser Hasty's courage when the stranger introduced himself as the lord of Hasty Keep in a light voice. Aerion climbed off his horse to properly greet the two men and handed his reins to Terrence. Lord Rambton and Ser Grant followed behind him.

"Ser Bonifer, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Ser Bonifer's stern face showed a small smile. "I apologize for not greeting you sooner, my lord, for I was in the middle of my afternoon prayer and my men knew better than to bother me in the Sept."

Aerion narrowed his eyes in intrigue and amusement. _His servants could not alert him even though his keep was getting surrounded by enemies?_ Aerion wasn't sure how to respond.

Ser Bonifer cleared his throat, "I ordered the servants to set up a small feast for your lordship and retinue. If you will join me in the main hall?"

Lord Rambton grunted harshly before Aerion could respond. "Ser Hasty, we are not here to be your dinner guests. Surrender your keep and we will leave your House in peace."

"I was not aware that we are at war, my lord, for we serve the same King." Ser Bonifer sighed and gestured back at his keep and the clearing, "I raised no levies and added no extra men to my garrison, as you can see with your own eyes. When Lord Robert's call arrived, I fasted and prayed a whole day and night to the Seven, and I heard no blessing from God to join his cause."

Aerion tilted his head to his side and tried to assess if he can trust Ser Hasty. This has been the most interesting exchange that he has had with a Stormlands House.

"You are vowing to stay loyal to the Crown? You would promise on the lives of your men and the future of your House?" Lord Rambton pressed.

"I speak the truth. I could let you search my keep if you'd like, to check that I'm not hiding soldiers and weapons." Ser Bonifer shrugged and spoke clearly, "I will not betray the Iron Throne; it was a vow that I've made to House Targaryen long ago, and I won't break it now."

 _A vow directly to his House?_ Ser Bonifer looked around the King's age, a little older to have been Prince Rhaegar's confidant. Could he have been close to King Aerys II? Aerion could not imagine the King voluntarily spending time with lesser nobles who were "too lowly for his grace's presence."

Lord Rambton narrowed his eyes in suspicion, Hasty Keep's surrender was too easy after House Bolling's resistance. "Turn over your son and heir and we will believe you. He'll be a guest at Stonedance until all of the Stormlands surrender to his grace."

Ser Bonifer looked directly at Lord Rambton in the eyes. "I am a pious man. I've vowed to take no wife and have no children so I can serve the Seven with all my heart. My keep will go to my sister's child, from House Lyberr, who is sworn to Highgarden and faithful to the Iron Throne."

Lord Rambton blinked in surprise at Ser Bonifer's response and looked to Aerion. Ser Bonifer looked determined and kept his confident gaze. House Hasty's Maester has not said a word, but looked relaxed and sincere to maintain peace.

Aerion hid an amused smirk and nodded to the head of House Hasty, "We are honored to be your guests, Ser Bonifer. Lead the way."

Ser Bonifer dipped his head and gestured for the entourage to follow him. Turning around, he was unfazed by the assembly of Stonedance soldiers who held live steel and loaded crossbows. The knight and his Maester simply walked around the crowd of warriors in the direction of his gatehouse.

At Aerion's nod, Ser Grant waved off the assembled of soldiers. He signaled a small group of their best swordsmen to escort Aerion and Lord Rambton, who started to follow a few paces behind Ser Bonifer.

Lord Rambton's steps were hesitant and he whispered by Aerion's ear, "My lord, is it wise to trust them so easily?"

Aerion hummed in consideration, "We will keep the crossbows trained on Bonifer and the Maester just in case. Though, Ser Bonifer's words seem authentic to me."

Lord Rambton opened his mouth as if to dissent, but changed his mind. He followed diligently behind Aerion, with one hand on his sword pommel and eyes scanning their vicinity for suspicious signs.

It turned out that they had nothing to worry about. Walking into the small keep, Aerion could count less than thirty guards distributed along the curtain walls and at the gates. Accounting for more garrisoned men elsewhere in the keep, Ser Bonifer definitely had less than a hundred guards.

As Aerion crossed the gates into the keep, Stonedance soldiers took control of the gates and stood guard. More soldiers piled in to secure the courtyard and the quarters inside the towers.

Ser Bonifer did not look surprised or bothered that his keep has been taken over. He led his guests into the main tower and into a medium-sized ballroom, where long tables and chairs have been set up.

"Are you heading to Haystack Hall or Bronzegate after this?" Ser Bonifer sat at the head of the table as host and invited Aerion to sit on the next chair.

Aerion smiled, "Haystack Hall." Hasty Keep was not a threat, as Ser Bonifer had a negligible garrison and did not call his banners. Aerion didn't mind being honest with his host.

"Ah, a wise choice." Ser Bonifer poured glasses of wine for the lords around him, "House Buckler's Bronzegate is a much tougher castle; If I might be honest, I don't think you brought enough men to besiege it."

Aerion agreed and took his offered drink with both hands. "You are right, Ser. House Buckler can easily call three thousand soldiers from their banners. I would be pushing my luck to head for Bronzegate."

"Haystack Hall will be yours soon enough." Ser Bonifer grunted and sat more comfortably in his chair. "Lady Shyra Errol is kind and has no stomach for fighting. However, her castellan is fiercely loyal to Storm's End, so he might give you some trouble."

"I appreciate your advice, Ser." Aerion watched Ser Bonifer take a spoonful of the vegetarian stew that was served.

Lord Rambton noticeably relaxed when his captain of the guards came back from his rounds and confirmed that the keep was secure. He moved his hand to his lap but did not touch any food or drink.

Aerion eventually dug into his platter of food. He figured that it would be too much of a suicide plan if Ser Hasty bid his kitchens to poison his guests. The scheme would also be completely against the sacred laws of hospitality – irredeemable in the eyes of the gods that he worshiped.

The vegetarian stew tasted delicious and was a perfect pair for the fresh dinner rolls. Aerion tried to convince Lord Rambton to eat the offered food without success. His bannerman was determined to take supper back in their camp and still did not trust Ser Bonifer Hasty's intentions.

The next morning, Aerion's legion packed quickly and rode south. According to Ser Hasty, Haystack Hall was almost ready to join forces with Storm's End, so Aerion needed to catch them before they've departed.

Valuing speed over stealth, Aerion led his troops on a more direct trail toward their destination. He would not waste more time than necessary to cut through the dense and maze-like Kingswood.

Two days after they made camp outside of Haystack Hall, a rider from Lord Wendwater arrived at their camp with messages. Aerion and Lord Rambton received the young man in the command tent, where a table and five chairs were set up.

"My lords, Lord Robert Baratheon ambushed House Cafferen and House Fell outside of Summerhall, as they refused to answer the Baratheon call for banners. Lord Fell was slain and Lord Cafferen surrendered."

"Both Houses? House Cafferen's garrison is two thousand strong, without counting the legions of his bannermen. House Fell is a prominent House too, with almost two thousand trained archers." Aerion frowned and clenched his fist.

"Aye, my lord. The two Houses were supposed to amass outside of Summerhall, but Lord Robert had arrived first and defeated them as each of them arrived. Lord Robert had three thousand men from Storm's End's garrison."

Aerion ran a hand through his hair, "That is quite impressive, to defeat two strong Houses so quickly. He does have a talent for strategy and rallying his men."

"Shouldn't Lord Robert be waiting at Storm's End for his troops to gather? Summerhall is quite a long ride, especially when he's needed at his seat." Lord Rambton unfolded a map of the Stormlands from his pocket.

"Lord Robert shouldn't have left his seat to pursue two rogue lords before his main forces congregated, it was partly why Lord Fell and Lord Cafferen weren't expecting an ambush. Lord Wendwater suspects that Lord Robert was advised of the strategy."

"Oh? Advised by whom? Why?"

"Lord Wendwater cannot be sure, but our contacts from Lord Fell's army say that Lord Baratheon grumbled something along the lines of 'Old Swann was right about treacherous Cafferen cunts' after the battle…" The messenger recited truthfully.

Aerion's heart skipped a beat at the mention of House Swann and their aid to their liege. He paced back and forth in the tent in contemplation while Lord Rambton studied his map.

 _But wait_ , it was a dangerous risk to take at Summerhall, going against two fully equipped armies without the Stormlands' main forces _. Lord Robert could have been killed, walking into the path of his foes. That would have been convenient, wouldn't it?_

Except that Robert Baratheon triumphed over both Houses, and not many more Stormlands nobles will dare to defy him from now on. Lord Robert probably thinks that Lord Swann's counsel was ingenious. _How ironic that Lord Gawen Swann was giving advice about making an example of traitors._

Aerion leaned forward on his table and considered his options. "We are already here, so we must take Haystack Hall before anything else. The Errols have a stronger garrison and more provisions, so they won't be intimidated as easily."

Lord Rambton grunted in agreement, "We might need to build proper siege weapons this time, my lord. My guards are trained to build the simpler ones, so we can at least catapult boulders and torches at their towers and archers."

"Yes, we will need proper weapons. Get your men started right away." Aerion thought of whether the Baratheons will march north soon, which means that he needed to get back to the Crownlands and join forces with House Wendwater. "Let's try to take Haystack Hall by the end of the week; after that, we are needed back by Wendwater Bridge."


	12. The Battles Won and Lost

**Author's Note:**

Hi everyone, thank you all for reading and following my story!

I just want to let everyone know that I probably need to slow down my updates from the end of August and onwards (one update every 10-15 days is my plan). I am starting at a new job and the transition has been busy - but I will find as much time as I can to work on it!

Thank you for your understanding and I hope you are enjoying the story so far :)

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**Chapter 12: The Battles Won and Lost**

_**Felwood, Stormlands, 282 AC** _

It was a clear and beautiful day in the central Stormlands. The sky was a pure, almost uninterrupted blue, with soft wisps of clouds sailing by in slow wind. From the edges of the Kingswood, dense woods and sprawling undergrowth were gradually replaced by thinning trees and low-lying bushes towards a vast grassland.

If there weren't a war, ranchers and loggers would be busy making a living out of nature's generous endowments – for this part of the Stormlands is perfect for grazing and collecting lumber for nearby castles and keeps.

But today, this part of the grasslands outside of the Kingswood has been chosen as a battleground by tacit agreement on both sides. For the royalists, it will be a battleground to put down the last notable rebel legion in the Stormlands. Whereas for the Baratheon bannermen and mercenaries, the battle will be their one chance to catch up to their liege and main army, who have already moved on into the Reach.

Aerion was leading the royalist forces along with Lord Rambton and Lord Sunglass. They had kept half of the southern Crownlands forces with Lord Wendwater to guard the Wendwater Bridge and the Kingsroad, and brought only two thousand light cavalry and thirteen hundred infantrymen to the battle.

On the other side, Baratheon, Buckler, and Tarth banners flew in the wind, as well as scattered banners of Stormlands knights and minor lords. Both Lord Ralph Buckler and Lord Selwyn Tarth have been sighted accompanying Lord Robert Baratheon at Ashford, which means that this left-behind legion was led by a minor lord or perhaps a cousin from House Buckler or House Tarth.

After a quick survey of their formation, Aerion estimated that the opposing side had closer to two thousand and five hundred light cavalry, and close to two thousand swordsmen and spearmen.

There was a sizable difference in their forces, but Aerion was sure that their numbers were greatly inflated by hastily assembled peasant levies.

After Robert Baratheon's victories at Summerhall, the Storm Lord had made a shift in battle strategy. He initially waited painfully for his bannermen to raise levies, round up supplies, and trek from their seats to Storm's End; until it hit him that he had little use of a large army of inexperienced levies.

Instead, he only needed the professional garrisons of his bannermen – soldiers who were already disciplined and well-trained.

It was the better idea, since each House's garrison was ready to march immediately. He also didn't need to worry about extra horses, weapons, and provisions to arm and feed a massive levied army. Storm's End quickly went to revise their commands to their bannermen – all Houses were to send their full garrison within five days to march east with Lord Robert Baratheon.

At that time, Aerion was busy taking Haystack Hall by force. Lady Errol and her castellan only surrendered after half of their guard tower had burned down, and the first thing that Aerion did was to confiscate all their correspondences with Storm's End. Letters with House Baratheon seals gave the concrete evidence that Robert Baratheon had a change of plans.

Reading the letters and exchanges, Aerion could see that Robert Baratheon wanted to march north for the capital. However, Lord Baratheon became doubtful that he could besiege King's Landing in any meaningful way with smaller numbers – that is, if he could surround the City without being chased away by royalist armies long enough for his allies to relieve him.

Apparently, Lord Wendwater's preparations at Wendwater Bridge and rumors of Stonedance's speedy mobilization were an important part of the consideration. Lord Robert was confident that he could cut through Lord Wendwater and Aerion's defences, but he would risk losing more men than he would have wanted.

In the last letter from Storm's End, dated just a day before Aerion's forces surrounded Haystack Hall, Lord Robert wrote that he would march east and then north, to join his allies from the North and the Vale before all else.

He had also left instructions for the rest of the noble households to keep raising levies and hire mercenaries. These smaller and more scattered legions will take more time to assemble and were to catch up to the faster, main Stormlands army whenever they were ready to march.

At Haystack Hall, Aerion had sent riders to Massey's Hook to tell the rest of Stonedance's forces and the newly arrived Dragonstone vassals to march south towards the Wendwater and the Kingsroad. Aerion then rode with Storm's End's letters and Lady Shyra Errol for Wendwater Bridge, where Lady Shyra will be a guest to keep her banners obedient to the Iron Throne.

Although they had solid military intelligence about Robert Baratheon's plans to head east, Aerion and Lord Lucian Wendwater could not let down their guard in the southern Crownlands. They notified the Red Keep of their findings, and worked to fortify checkpoints along the Kingsroad.

For the better part of a moon, they held their breath to see if Robert Baratheon does indeed head east. The Red Keep had ordered them to stay vigilant, while sending a note to the Tyrells about Lord Robert's potential plans.

Two weeks ago, the Tyrells had coordinated a successful ambush against the Stormlands main forces at Ashford, which was in the Storm Lord's direct eastern path. The knights of the Reach had decimated three thousand infantrymen from the Stormlands' leading arrays. Still, unfortunately, they allowed the Baratheon lord to break away with most of his heavy cavalry and swordsmen.

The royalists gained more information from the battle, too; specifically, they now had a better idea of Robert Baratheon's numbers and the key noblemen following him as commanders. The Tyrells captured several Stormlands lords as well, though none of the Storm Lord's core bannermen.

Aerion knew that King Aerys II was quite particular about not allowing the three rebel Kingdoms to join forces. He had wanted two distinct battlefronts – to keep the insurgent factions in smaller armies that were easier to wipe out.

And so, even though the battle at Ashford sounded like good news to Aerion, Aerion suspected that the King was less than pleased – especially when Lord Tyrell's scouts have not been able to track where Storm Lord has been hiding in the forests or mountains.

Well, it was a given that he was leading his men north. But the uncertainty and the King's inability to get his hands on his mortal enemy has been making his grace more impatient and bitter than ever.

Updates and new commands from the Red Keep came soon enough to Aerion and Lord Lucian. The Hand of the King, Lord Merryweather, had been stripped of his position, noble titles, and even his seat for his incompetence to suppress the rebellion. Lord Jon Connington succeeded as the new Lord Hand and led a Crownlands army to track down the hiding Stormlands troops.

Considering that the main Stormlands troops have marched out of the Stormlands, Aerion and Lord Wendwater's defences against an invasion from the south seemed to hold a lower value. And so, they were tasked with neutralizing several smaller Stormlands legions that were looking to catch up to their main forces, while safeguarding the Kingsroad.

Aerion had volunteered to ride out and track down the scattered legions. He would leave Lord Wendwater, a considerate and bright commander in his own right, to guard the Kingsroad and Wendwater, a region that Lord Lucian knew best.

Aerion counted most of their light cavalry and a mix of spearmen and swordsmen for their mission. Lord Rambton and Lord Sunglass were interested to follow him, and he gladly accepted. The legion had ridden out after a few days of preparation, as they were all anxious to finally do something productive.

Now, just outside of Felwood, they had intercepted the last notable enemy legion who were aiming to join their liege lord in the north. Aerion's legion could not allow the four thousand Stormlands soldiers in front to them to hide or march east any further.

After this last legion is dealt with, the Stormlands will consist of very few enemy fighters – they will be scattered across dozens of castles and keeps and will hardly pose a threat to the southern Crownlands or the Reach. Storm's End will still have a few hundred of its garrison, but Stannis Baratheon, who held the castle in his brother's place, will not risk his defensive forces outside of his walls.

A broad-shouldered knight on top of a dark brown stallion seemed to be the merged legion's commander. His shield bore the three bronze buckles of House Buckler, so he was undoubtedly a cousin or uncle of the current Lord of Bronzegate.

He shouted commands from the middle of the formation, and the Stormlands troops moved to get into position. The infantrymen stayed in the centre, while the cavalrymen divided its forces to flank the center on the left and the right.

Narrowing his eyes at the arrangement before him, Aerion thought of how to concentrate his smaller forces for an advantage. The cavalry numbers on both sides are similar, while Aerion's infantry is greatly outnumbered.

He shared a glance with Lord Sunglass and Lord Rambton, "We match their formation, with the infantry in the center and the cavalry to the sides. I'll hold the center while the two of you lead from the wings to encircle them."

"Aye, Lord Aerion." Lord Sunglass pulled down his visor. "Their men in the back don't even have proper helms and peytrals, we will cut through easily enough."

"My lord, are you sure you have enough men to hold the center? If we take all our cavalry to the wings, we can't get back to you if you're in trouble." Lord Rambton shifted on his horse.

"I will be fine. Once their cavalry is in disarray, go straight for the House Buckler Commander in mid-field. Once we have him, the lesser lords will surrender. And try to capture him alive – I want to question him."

"Aye, my lord." Lord Rambton nodded and urged his horse towards the left wing, bringing his squire and personal guards with him.

Lord Sunglass also nodded in understanding. He led his retainers towards the right and assumed his position.

A sharp and brassy note echoed throughout the field. In great coordination, rebel soldiers unsheathed their weapons and joined in a deafening battle cry. All three units of their formation charged forward, determined to ravage Aerion's smaller legion all at once.

The soldiers around Aerion stiffened at the sudden enemy advancement, but recovered their stance when Stonedance's own lower and rumbling horn blew in response. The faster cavalry wings sped up to meet the attack, while the center array stayed put under Aerion's signal in defence.

Although the Stormlands army was built up from many households and mercenary factions that had never fought alongside each other, they gave a valiant and determined charge. In truth, Aerion was impressed with how well the incoming infantry array moved as one, complete with a terrifying roar and uniformed marching of boots.

"Hold your ground!" Ser Grant yelled out to the field before their leading soldiers engaged with the Stormlands advancement. Soon, the scene was filled by loud cries of battle and the swashing and clanging of blades.

Aerion rode up to the center of the action with his sword in hand. He carried another three-headed dragon emblazoned shield and used the heavy piece to bash hard on the helmets of enemy soldiers from his horse as he sped by.

Four personal guards followed closely behind him, as well as Terrence Celtigar, at the young squire's second major battle after Haystack Hall.

The momentum of Aerion's mount crashed three Stormlands spearmen to the ground. Soldiers in red and black Targaryen colors poured from behind Aerion, from the pathway that their lord had cleared. Aerion could not go any further into the enemy lines, as he had to take a sharp turn to avoid a heavy axe coming down on the neck of his horse.

The wielder of the axe made a mistake to leave his side undefended, and Aerion impaled the Stormlands soldier from the lower back with his longsword. With a small grunt, Aerion ripped his weapon out of the dead combatant and watched his body fall to the ground.

Taking full advantage of his higher position, Aerion ran his horse into another swordsman who bore House Tarth colors and sliced open the soldier's throat. Royalist soldiers lunged forward around him, each exchanging strikes and clashes with enemy targets.

After two kills, a rush of adrenaline made Aerion grip tighter on his sword. He allowed his combat training to take over his reflexes to cut through as many Stormlands soldiers as he could. Ugly war cries and pained shrieking echoed in his ear, but he did not bother to survey the wounded and the dying around him and only concentrated on what was in front of him.

He brought his shield over his shoulder to block several spears pointed at his neck and helmet. When the spears bounced off his shield, Aerion used the opportunity to force his sword forward, striking a soldier squarely on the shoulder, and piercing another's leather armor from the side.

Aerion's horse stumbled awkwardly beneath him, and he realized that a dying Stormlands fighter had crawled under his destrier and stabbed the horse in the guts. Aerion slipped from his saddle before his mount could fall and opened the assailant's throat with a frustrated groan.

His horse stumbled a little more and knocked over a sparring enemy knight, before falling on his side with a dying breath. Aerion had little time to mourn his courser, and stalked toward the Stormlands knight to deliver a deadly blow.

When the enemy knight clutched uselessly at his open chest wound, Aerion turned and saw one of his guards helping Terrence sparring a Stormlands spearman. Terrence was wielding his weapon tactfully, and dodging the older and stronger enemy with swift steps. It had brought a proud smile to Aerion inside his helmet, as he was glad that his squire was learning quickly in the heat of battle.

Two sharp notes from the enemy's battle horn prompted Aerion to look up to the wider field. Lord Sunglass was making a lot of progress overrunning the Stormlands' on the right flank, and was about ready to round up the opposing center array from behind.

On the left flank, Lord Rambton seemed to be held up by the more experienced House Tarth bannermen. But there was little that Aerion could do to help Lord Rambton, save for buying him more time holding the center field.

After a quick survey around him, his infantry array was taking a heavier loss at the center field due to their smaller numbers, but still did not yield more than a few yards to enemy advancement.

Aerion took a deep breath and continued his task at hand, cutting down any soldiers who were not bearing Crownlands sigils. When an enemy axe almost split his shield in half, Aerion threw his oak and layered steel shield at the soldier's sword arm and knocked off his weapon. The soldier reached for his broad axe in panic, but Aerion produced a small dagger from his boots and thrust it between the vulnerable edges of the soldier's armor, deep into his stomach.

The Stormlands soldier's eyes were blood-shot red as he drew a sharp breath at the pain. He tried to grab on to Aerion's arm as he slid towards the ground. Warm blood covered Aerion's chainmail-covered hands and dripped along his armored sleeve. Aerion pulled out the deeply buried blade in one swift motion and pushed for the dying soldier to fall sideways.

Aerion narrowly avoided being crushed on the foot by the weight of the soldier's armor. He brushed his matted silver hair from his face and took in the grassland before him, which was littered by dead men, horses, and weapons and armor of all kind.

Something sturdy crashed into his left arm and a numb pain shot up his entire left side. Aerion stumbled backwards and found two new enemy soldiers, who have smashed their shields and dented his armor from the left side.

Aerion stretched his left hand through the pain, and used his longsword to fend off the approaching slashes of swords. His left arm was groaning in protest and he could not lift it enough to grab a shield off of the battle floor. The enemy soldiers closed in on him, and Aerion could not step back any further for the risk of putting himself between another duel.

 _It was a stupid mistake._ He shouldn't have left a whole side exposed, breaking precisely the first two lessons of combat – never get distracted and never leave your side unprotected. As he stressed on training his bannermen and levies back at Stonedance, he really should have brushed up on dueling and fighting himself, and now he suffers the consequences of inconsideration.

Giving up on his left arm for the time being, Aerion shoved forcefully into one soldier with his right shoulder and steel armor. The Stormlands swordsman lost his balance by the momentum, and Aerion turned the soldier's body slightly to push his sword straight through the swordsman's chest.

Before Aerion could pull out his longsword from the dead man, the Stormlands soldier's companion gave a thundering cry and lunged at Aerion. With no shield and no weapon to block the charge, Aerion pushed the dead soldier in his arms, along with his longsword into the advancing swordsman to slow him down.

Aerion reached down for his smaller dagger and assumed a defensive posture, while his opponent froze in a split second of confusion. But Aerion's blade was hopeless against a longsword, as he could never get close enough to strike. Aerion dodged the first few slashes by the opposing Stormlands knight, but it quickly became too tiring to keep more than three paces from his charging enemy.

From the corner of Aerion's eyes, he saw that one of his Stonedance guards had finished off a Stormlands spearman. Hoping that the guard would notice his surroundings, Aerion purposely led his opponent in his direction.

Thankfully, the Stonedance guard caught what his lord was trying to do and ran over to relieve Aerion. Two longswords engaged and soon enough, the Stonedance guard broke the neck of the enemy knight with a mighty swing of his sword.

Aerion caught his breath and looked around for his lost weapon. He realized that he was surrounded more by red and black Targaryen colors and even a few white and gold Sunglass colors. The Stormlands infantry was starting to pull back, in realization that their right flank had crumbled, and they were being attacked from the front, the right side, and from behind. Sounds of battle horn blew diligently to warn the legion of the new threats.

Lord Rambton's left side was still dealing with House Buckler's cavalry units, but on the right side of the battlefield, Lord Sunglass's cavalryman was charging into lines of Stormlands infantry like an armored fist into soft flesh.

As long as Aerion's men could hold their end of the line, Lord Sunglass and his men could ravage through the entire enemy formation in no time. Aerion flexed his left arm for his strength to return and made his way to his sword, which was still lodged in the dead swordsman's chest.

A light tug was all it took to take back his sword. Aerion gripped the hilt tightly and joined more of his guards to push back against the Stormlands army.

Before long, rows upon rows of the Stormlands infantry threw their weapons on the ground in surrender, or tried to run away from the battle amidst the chaos. Aerion looked up to see Lord Rambton's division finally overpowering the left flank cavalry and heading towards the center array for the rest of the Stormlands infantry.

"Get the Buckler Commander!" Lord Rambton's roar could be heard even from Aerion's position, where hundreds of soldiers separated Lord Rambton and the Lord of Stonedance.

Aerion gave a soft snort in amusement. Lord Rambton is not known for his subtlety, Aerion had learned that over the years. Though, the clear command did seem to panic the Stormlands legion further, and some soldiers even looked back to check whether their leader was still alive.

Aerion pulled back his visor for a better view and fresh air – though the field was filled with the heavy metallic scent of blood. As he walked towards deeper into enemy lines with his Crownlands infantry, he caught two swordsmen distracted by Lord Rambton and the cavalry's approach and slit their throats with confident slashes.

As more and more Stormlands levies surrendered and fled from the battle, Aerion's forces closed in on Ser Buckler and a dozen of House Buckler guards from three directions. Ser Grant managed to find Aerion amongst the bloodied faces of the Crownlands infantrymen; he immediately offered his own shield to Aerion when he noticed that Aerion was without one.

Aerion waved off Ser Grant's offer. The victory was clear for the Crownlands, and he was surrounded by his own bannermen. He would have little use of it. He glanced at Ser Grant up and down, and saw that the knight looked tired but unharmed, "Are you injured?"

Ser Grant pulled off his helmet, "Nothing serious, my lord. Some bastard gave me a cut on my leg, but it was just on the skin."

Aerion nodded and slightly relaxed. He searched through the faces of the soldiers around him, but did not see Terrence Celtigar, "Did you see Terrence?" He asked his captain of the guards.

Ser Grant shook his head, "I lost sight of him early on." They walked towards the circle where Ser Buckler and his men were still resisting Lord Sunglass and Lord Rambton.

Aerion furrowed his brow, "Keep an eye out. He looked like he stayed with some of my guards, but I lost sight of him too."

"Aye, my lord. I'll let our men look for him." Ser Grant turned to some soldiers behind him and gave his command.

At the center of what used to be the Stormlands legion's formation, Ser Buckler and a dozen or so guards were surrounded by House Sunglass and House Rambton soldiers. Ser Buckler's men formed a tight circle around their commander and held their ground firmly.

Lord Rambton was yelling, a bit quieter than before, at Ser Buckler, offering him a chance to surrender and serve his rightful King. Aerion could not make out Ser Buckler's expression behind his steel helmet and visor, but the knight was standing dauntlessly inside the circle of defence, and looked unmoved by Lord Rambton's words.

Lord Sunglass walked up to Aerion and stopped with the Lord of Stonedance several rows behind the standoff. "My lord, the Buckler knight is stubborn. We might be here for a while."

"We have all the time that we need to persuade or coerce him. He is more useful alive than dead – he will know if there are other Stormlands legions that we've missed."

The rest of the battlefield displayed Crownlands banners. Most of the surviving Stormlands troops were laying down their weapons and standards in surrender. Some frightened soldiers or levies attempted to escape, and Aerion's bannermen were chasing after the fleeing fighters on horses.

"Aye, my lord." Lord Sunglass was confident enough of their victory that he sheathed his sword.

Lord Rambton was still yelling to a silent Ser Buckler. Aerion glanced at the battlefield around him as Crownlands soldiers moved to line up the dead and pick up any weapons and shields worth repairing.

"How many cavalrymen have we lost?"

Lord Sunglass donned a somber expression and sighed deeply, "At least two hundred light cavalry from my thousand – we didn't lose nearly as many only because we encountered more levied horsemen on my side. I'd wager closer to four or five hundred on Lord Rambton's side."

"And another five hundred from the infantry. I was counting a rough total of our divisions while walking up here." Aerion added irritably and closed his eyes at the numbers. Each one of his men was precious. Their forces were small to begin with, and he loathed losing his professional soldiers to masses of Stormlands levies.

Lord Sunglass nodded solemnly, "Lord Aerion, it was worth it. There are no more armies to raise in the Stormlands. The Reach and Lord Jon Connington are free to crush Robert Baratheon wherever he is."

Aerion pursed his lips. The new Lord Hand, Lord Jon Connington, was a little too proud and thirsty for glory for Aerion's taste. Having just lost a sizable portion of his army, Aerion prayed to the Seven that Lord Connington would be more cautious with the northern Crownlands forces. The Crown would still need the men to fight the Vale and the North after Robert Baratheon.

A shuffling of leather boots against grass pulled Aerion's attention back to Ser Buckler and Lord Rambton. Aerion realized that Lord Rambton had stopped yelling at the House Buckler men and was staring at the scene in great frustration. The circle of Buckler guards was moving to tighten the circle until they were almost shoulder to shoulder.

Aerion opened his mouth but closed it quickly. He wondered if he should step in to negotiate with Ser Buckler in Lord Rambton's place. But again, he wouldn't know what else to say as Lord Rambton seemed to have gone through the full list of arguments from threats to bribery to reasoning against the Stormlands knight.

Concerned of an unnecessary escalation, Aerion pushed past the outer ring of soldiers to get closer to Lord Rambton and their captives.

Suddenly, Ser Buckler pointed his sword upwards at the sky and growled hoarsely, "For Storm's End!"

"FOR STORM'S END!" Ser Buckler's guards cried determinedly in response. They leveled their swords as one and charged at their nearest opponents.

House Rambton and House Sunglass soldiers had just enough time to raise their spears before meeting the advance. The Crownlands soldiers were caught by surprise but outnumbered the House Buckler men three or four to one.

The House Buckler commander managed to slay a soldier before turning his weapon at Lord Rambton's direction. Lord Rambton pointed his sword as if to accept the duel, but three Crownlands spearmen rushed up to surround the commander before Aerion's bannerman could take another step. With practiced sharp thrusts, the spearmen drove their spears past leather and mail into Ser Buckler's chest.

Ser Buckler's knees fell instantly, and his head dropped to his chest. His helmet slipped off to reveal the face of a young and handsome knight, now ashen as he huffed his last breath.

The fighting ended with the last House Buckler guard falling to the ground with an open chest wound from a sword. Aerion patted on the shoulder of a Crownlands knight to move him out of the way and finally admitted himself to the inner circle, now littered with the bodies of the Stormlands legion's resistance.

It all started and ended so quickly. Aerion didn't even have time to cross the crowd and get a clear view before it was all over. Aerion rubbed his forehead with his knuckles and sighed deeply, his eyes found the dead Stormlands commander and his open and murky eyes.

Lord Rambton and Lord Sunglass came and stood quietly next to Aerion, both surveying the inner circle. Lord Rambton looked angry and kicked a broken shield to a few yards away.

 _Ser Buckler served his liege well_. His men were honorable as well, willing to sacrifice their lives for the cause in their hearts.

 _Ser Buckler, his men, and all the dead on the battlefield were needless losses._ _If Rhaegar hadn't taken off with Lady Lyanna … if King Aerys II was a better King…_ Aerion shook his head – it was useless to dwell on "what ifs."

"Give them all proper burials. They've more than earned it." Aerion looked up and gestured to the wider battlefield.

"Aye, my lord." Lord Rambton and Lord Sunglass both nodded solemnly. Lord Rambton sheathed his weapon while Lord Sunglass began to turn to his soldiers.

* * *

_**Wendwater Bridge, Crownlands, 282 AC** _

"Hoster Tully declared against the Iron Throne." Those were Lucian Wendwater's first words to Aerion when he returned to Wendwater Bridge with his remaining forces.

Aerion was coming to a stop on his horse in the middle of the keep courtyard, drained from a full day of riding. In causal dark grey robes, Lord Wendwater looked like he had been waiting for Aerion's arrival for hours. He had rushed up to deliver the news the first chance he had.

"House Tully? I thought the Riverlands were supplying the northern Crownlands with reinforcements." Aerion wiped his forehead and temples with his sleeve and jumped off his horse. House Wendwater servants took over the reins of his horse, and his bannermen behind him were coming to full stops at their destination.

He would have sounded more concerned by the news, but he was tired and at the back of his mind, he could not say that he was very surprised. Letters from Lord Hoster Tully reporting on the developments in his domain _have_ been vague. And when asked to propose his House's war strategy, the Lord Paramount of the Trident was keen to avoid describing anything concrete. Looking back, it was most likely intentional and not an illustration of Lord Tully's ineptitude.

After all, King Aerys II did murder Lord Hoster's to-be goodson – who was betrothed to his daughter for more than five years and quite well-liked at Riverrun castle. Lord Hoster took his alliance with the Starks very seriously, and if there were ever a time to honor his pact, it would be now.

"The Riverlands remains divided, Lord Aerion. The raven from the Red Keep says that some prominent Houses are still loyal to the Crown – and they have been the ones sending bannermen and supplies to the northern Crownlands."

"Lord Hoster honored his marriage alliance to the North even though Brandon Stark is dead? How noble of him." Aerion raised an eyebrow and walked with Lord Wendwater into the main keep.

"Lord Hoster Tully married his eldest to Brandon Stark's younger brother, Eddard." Lord Wendwater looked a bit uneasy, "He also wed his younger daughter to Lord Jon Arryn in the same ceremony, aligning Riverrun with both the North and the Vale."

"Of course he did." Aerion wrinkled his nose a little at the arrangement. Lord Jon Arryn was what – fifty years apart from Lady Lysa Tully? He wasn't aware that the Lord of the Eyrie was looking for a new bride, at least at the tourney in Harrenhal, Lord Arryn did not show any indication.

They arrived in Lord Lucian's study, along with House Wendwater's Maester and castellan. Aerion propped himself into a comfortable armchair while the castellan shut the heavy doors behind them.

"It was a calculated move. Lady Lyanna's abduction, Bradon Stark's ride to the capital, Lord Richard Stark answering the King's summons… it all happened in the Riverlands under his watch. Lord Hoster Tully had a long time to consider his options."

Aerion unconsciously rubbed his left arm, where there was still a dark purple bruise down the length from his earlier battle outside of Felwood. He reached with his right arm for a goblet of water from the long table. "So, what's our response?"

Lord Wendwater unrolled a large map on the table and laid pages of opened letters in front of Aerion. The map revealed to be as detailed and decorated as Aerion's map in Stonedance, while the letters were signed by Grand Maester Pycelle.

Lord Lucian pointed at several keeps in the Riverlands. "House Darry, House Goodbrook, House Ryger, and House Mooton confirmed that they will be loyal to the Crown. They have gathered their bannermen and will try to ride out of the Riverlands to join forces with the northern Crownlands."

"The Small Council is worried that Hoster Tully's banners will add another ten thousand men to the rebels, which is significantly more than what they anticipated. We were ordered to gather almost all of our men and march for Sow's Horn. Sow's Horn will be our base until further commands."

"And leave the Stormlands unpatrolled? Leave the Kingsroad undefended?" Aerion sat at the edge of his seat and studied the map in front of him.

"The Dornish legion, almost ten thousand strong, is passing the Stone Way as we speak. They will march into the Stormlands and put down any suspicious activity while we withdraw north."

Aerion nodded. That made more sense.

"Lord Gawen Swann and his close allies, House Dondarrion and House Whitehead, all announced a few days back that they will remain loyal to the Crown. Lord Swann has volunteered on behalf of the three Houses to help besiege Storm's End."

Aerion took a long sip from his goblet. He knew that House Swann and House Dondarrion, the two Marcher Houses were capable of raising bigger armies, had stayed put while Lord Robert Baratheon marched east and fought at Ashford.

It had made him anxious when weeks upon weeks had passed, and Lord Gawen still did not formally declare for the Crown. Although Aerion held Gulian Swann in his castle, he still braced for the possibility that Lord Gawen would renege on his promise.

Aerion eyes glanced over another part of the Seven Kingdoms on the map and he narrowed his eyes. "What of the Westerlands?" The Westerlands was staying strangely quiet in the war.

"We are not sure." Lord Wendwater shook his head. "We didn't get any formal commands to coordinate with Westerlands forces. Perhaps Lord Tywin is still gathering soldiers and levies."

Aerion hummed and tapped his finger against the table. He didn't get any letters from Lord Varys that mentioned Casterly Rock or any Westerlands Houses either.

Aerion cast the issue aside and asked about the more urgent issue, "When do we march?"

"I have been ordered to stay in the Southern Crownlands with a thousand troops in reserve." Lord Wendwater clarified. "You are to lead the rest of the army, along with House Grandison and House Connington and their bannermen north, when they get here. Orders from the Red Keep have been sent to their households."

Aerion nodded. He and Lord Lucian were the more prominent lords in the region, it would make sense for one of them to stay behind to hold the area and one of them to march north.

He was glad to see Lorent again. He could use a friend and his counsel heading to the true frontlines of the war. What lied ahead will be much harder and bloodier than the small scale sieges and skirmishes that he had seen so far.

A week would also give his squire enough time to return to Wendwater Bridge and ride north with them. He had bid Terrence Celtigar, who was dutifully collecting the bodies of their fallen soldiers after the battle, to escort the body of the House Buckler commander back to his ancestral home. It had been Lord Rambton's idea, and Aerion had given Terrence fifty soldiers to make the trip to Bronzegate.

The short meeting wrapped up after the castellan finalized plans with his lord about rescheduling their patrols after Aerion and the bulk of their forces depart from Wendwater Bridge. Aerion stood when everyone stood from their chairs and started heading out the door.

Taking his time, Aerion strolled along the hallway of the keep for his private quarters. Lord Wendwater's keep was modest in size but had all the important functions and rooms of a larger castle. His servants and guards were well-trained, and would approach Lord Lucian with genuine fondness and respect. Aerion admired how Lord Lucian ran his household – he is open-minded to advice different from his own, and grants his keep officers autonomy to do what they feel is best.

Familiar faces of Stonedance guards greeted Aerion when Aerion arrived at his chamber. He took a deep breath when he sat in front of his desk, and reached for parchment and a quill. He turned the quill in his fingers in a few seconds of pause before dipping the tip in black ink and starting at the top of the page.

The Westerlands is a tricky problem. If Lord Tywin does not commit his troops for the Iron Throne soon, Aerion would have to consider House Lannister to be on the rebels' side. The news would be devastating for the Crown, but Aerion would rather be sure of Lord Tywin's allegiance than dancing around the uncertainty.

The fact that Jaime Lannister is in King's Landing was an important leverage for the Crown. He would write the Lord Varys and ask him to keep an eye on Jaime Lannister, and any rumors that the sworn Kingsguard might leave his post. Jaime could not be allowed to leave the Red Keep – they needed him to keep the Westerlands in check.

Aerion was going to ride out of southern Crownlands soon, with no time to go back to Stonedance and address any problems that might have occurred. He needed to write to his Maester and his castellan about locking down the castle for safety. He had only left two hundred guards to defend his home, and he wanted to know if everything is running smoothly in his absence.

He needed to write to Baelor, first to explain what was happening in simple terms for the boy to understand, and second, to reassure his brother that things were going well. Aerion would hate for Baelor to be constantly worried when he should be taking lessons with Maester Kelhmon and training with Xorru. His brother's life should remain somewhat normal, as he was too young to be exposed to the brutalities of war.

Before Aerion sealed the letters, he read them over to check for clarity and add anything he had missed _._ He sealed the letters to Ser Bryce and Baelor with the Stonedance sigil but hesitated at the Maester's letter. _He needed a token to negotiate with Lord Tywin, if the need comes up. And there might just be something, other than Jaime Lannister, that Lord Tywin could not buy with all the gold in Casterly Rock._

"Guards!" Aerion aligned the letters neatly and wrapped them with string. He would have them delivered by riders and not by raven. His chamber doors opened to two Stonedance guards in red and black colors, who bowed and looked expectantly at their lord.

Aerion held out the small batch of letters. "Letters for Stonedance. Tell Ser Grant that I want ten riders to deliver them."

One of the guards stepped forward to accept the piece. "Aye, my lord." They nodded and took their leave.


	13. A Force United

**Author's Note:**

A huge thank you for all your patience and interest in the story! I really appreciate all your kind reviews and they give me lots of motivation to keep up my writing :)

I think this new chapter is my longest chapter so far ... I originally planned for two chapters but decided to move some things around (which contributed to the delay in this update). I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 13: A Force United**

_**Sow's Horn, Crownlands, 283 AC** _

The polite conversation around the dinner table was interrupted by a sudden and violent fit of coughing and heaving. Ser Boros Blount almost knocked over his chair when he pushed himself to stand and took a shaky breath. Another round of a strangling cough shook him, making his spit and phlegm fly in all directions before he doubled over dramatically.

The chubby knight pounded his fist on the table each time he tried to cough away the choking pain. After a few minutes, he wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes and massaged hard on his throat.

Careless to the scene around him, the knight from House Blount cleared his throat once more and retched forcefully, this time straight at the roasted veal dish that the table was sharing. His face flushed red as he tried to recover from choking on his wine.

Aerion curled the corners of his lips in contained disgust and gently placed down his cutlery. He was sitting right next to Ser Boros and his food was surely ruined from the knight's coughing frenzy. He lost the little appetite that he had and pushed his plate slightly further away.

"Fetch me more water! Damn it!" Ser Boros choked hoarsely at the maids tending by.

"A-Aye mi'lord!" The young maids, both no older than five and ten, gave haste curtsies and rushed out of the tent to fulfill their task.

"Imbeciles!" Ser Boros spat under his breath and sat back down. His chair squeaked at the load of his weight.

Aerion rolled his eyes. Ser Boros was crude and vulgar, and it was almost a sign from the Seven to have him choke on his own wine. Aerion wouldn't normally wish ill on a fellow ally and nobleman, but still, a part of him was hoping that Ser Boros would be seriously incapacitated by the accident, if only just to shut him up for a little while.

The large military command tent fell silent at Ser Boros' cursing. Ser Boros continued to massage his throat while most of the other dinner attendees looked down at their meals. Holden Darry, who sat to Aerion's other side, shoved the last bites of his food in his mouth and concentrated on chewing. His two younger brothers sat further down the table and kept their heads low.

Ser Alfred Stokeworth offered fresh napkins to Ser Boros before wringing his hands in his lap. Lord Hogg and two more landed knights sat near the exit of the tent, but did not dare to speak up lest they would annoy Ser Boros.

Initially an obscure cousin from House Blount, Ser Boros had risen quite quickly over the last few years in rank and influence. He had made his name through a tourney in the Westerlands, and then demonstrated his savagery during the melee tournament at Harrenhal. Savagery was how Aerion would describe Ser Boros' performance, but the Master of laws, who witnessed the sparring, had other interpretations. Lord Symond was so impressed with Ser Boros' skills that he offered to introduce the knight to the King.

It was the turning point of Ser Boros Blount's life, as King Aerys II was swayed to give him a position in the capital. Since then, Ser Boros had steadily won the King's favor and became a frequent guest to the King's formal audiences.

Indeed, as a rising noble before King Aerys II, Ser Boros had been appointed by royal decree as a high commander of the Crown's army at Sow's Horn. When Aerion arrived with five thousand southern Crownlands and Stormlands soldiers, he had found that most lords and knights who were already there were terrified of upsetting Boros the Belly.

Their host at Sown's Horn, House Hogg, was content to have Ser Boros make all the important decisions of where each household camped in their holding, how patrols were organized, and how provisions were distributed. Things went the way Ser Boros wanted, and that was the end of it.

At the moment, only Aerion and Lord Hayford ranked equal to Ser Boros at Sow's Horn, with the latter lord reluctant to disagree with Ser Boros in any matter, as he feared repercussions from the Iron Throne.

"Fucking worthless cunts!" Ser Boros threw his goblet forcefully at the floor. The metallic cup gave a muted _thump_ against the carpet and rolled from his feet.

Ser Boros' last bit of patience was about to wear off when the maids returned. They each carried a heavy tray of jugs of water and clean glasses. They laid one tray at the center of the table and one tray immediately in front of Ser Boros.

One of the maids moved to pour a fresh glass of water for Ser Boros, but the knight batted her hands away irritably. Instead, Ser Boros reached for a full jug and gulped hungrily, tilting it back with both hands.

Aerion watched as Ser Boros finished the jug. Water ran down his chin and neck through the corners of his mouth, but he did not seem to notice or mind.

Aerion stretched his lips into a polite smile when Ser Boros was done. "Feeling better?"

"Humph." Ser Boros grunted and slouched in his chair. His hands rubbed his belly through his robes. "Fucking cursed horse piss. I'm never having that Dornish wine again!"

Aerion raised an eyebrow in slight amusement. "More food to do away the taste?" He gestured at the platters of food on the table. He hoped that Ser Boros would call it a night and wrap up the dinner. Spending more time with the nitwitted Ser did not make a pleasant evening.

"Nay, I'm heading back to my tent. The whole dinner is ruined." Ser Boros wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

_By you._ Aerion added in his head. However, he smiled and stood up with Ser Boros, as many of the guests around the table did the same. "I do hope you feel better. Have a pleasant night, Ser Boros."

"Thanks." Ser Boros still had some respect for Aerion, but clearly thought of the other lords and knights at the table as negligible. He huffed at Aerion and stormed out of the tent without sparing a glance at anyone else.

Aerion watched behind Ser Boros with a slight smirk. The thick woolen tent drapes fell back down after the knight left and blocked the chilly evening air from the warmth inside.

Aerion sat back down in his chair and surveyed the table. Everyone was about done their meals, and it was a good time for a friendly chat with Ser Boros gone. He called softly to the maids who stood in the corner with downcast gazes, "Clear away the table and bring us some more wine. Fruits and cakes too."

The maids nodded timidly and started their work. They carried Ser Boros' mess at his seat and the platter of roasted veal away first, which earned them an appreciative smile from Aerion.

As the maids worked around the table, Aerion turned to the eldest House Darry sibling, "Holden, how are your men settling in?"

House Darry was one of the Riverlands Houses who remained loyal to the Crown. After Lord Hoster Tully declared an alliance with the rebel forces, House Darry members and their bannermen had to evade capture by their liege and other opposing Riverlands Houses. Their loyalty to the Crown essentially made them fugitives in their native land.

Lord Darry marched his household and bannermen for the royalists' base at Sow's Horn, but got ambushed north of Harrenhal. Half of their forces managed to break away, including the three older Darry brothers, but the older lord and his youngest son and daughter were taken captive by the enemy legion.

Holden Darry, a boy of five and ten who has not yet earned his knighthood, had to make the difficult decision to lead his wounded and disordered forces to Sow's Horn, and not pursue his family. After accounting for casualties, his legion of barely two thousand soldiers was no match for House Vypren and House Nutt's army of more than four thousand.

Holden and his bannermen had arrived a few days ago to Sow's Horn and have been enduring cruel and nasty mockery from common Crownlands soldiers and Ser Boros. Despite Aerion's frustration, Ser Boros enjoyed insulting the Darrys for fleeing from their castle and lands.

Other thick-headed commanders and foot soldiers joined in with Ser Boros' encouragement, and fanned hostility against House Darry. Whispers were going around of how House Darry cannot be trusted since they were Riverlands men, as if House Darry did not just sacrifice their banners and kin for the Crown. Aerion had punished the more vocal commanders by stripping away their privileges at camp, which had helped quiet things down.

Holden Darry turned to Aerion to answer, "My lord, we are all settled in well. We lost some of our supplies outside of Harrenhal, but Lord Hogg has been very kind to help us find what we need."

The stout and middle-aged Lord Hogg nodded modestly from across the table at Holden's words of appreciation.

"That's good. If you need anything else, come to me." Aerion held Holden's gaze. The boy has grown up quickly since he arrived, as all boys do in times of war. "Any news of your family?"

The last time they've sent for scouts, Lord Darry and his two youngest children were being taken to Riverrun to answer their breach of faith against House Tully. Holden grimaced as concerned etched across his face, "They are almost at Riverrun, it will be another day or two."

Aerion offered a comforting smile, "There is no custom to abuse or execute noblemen during armed conflicts. When we capture House Tully bannermen, we will trade them for your father and siblings."

"Yes, my lord. We understand." Holden took a deep breath and looked to his younger brothers. The two boys looked worried but hopeful at Aerion's words.

"You made the right choice, Holden. You would have risked your own life and your brothers' lives if you chased after House Vypren. Don't let Ser Boros' nonsense bother you."

"Thank you, my lord." Holden nodded and gripped on the corner of his cuff. Ser Boros had prattled about the cowardice of Riverlands Houses when they sat for dinner, and Aerion noticed that Holden's cheeks had burned in embarrassment. Aerion pushed to change the conversation topic before the younger boys jumped to challenge Ser Boros to a fight.

Aerion nodded at Holden's maturity. His younger brothers and bannermen looked up to him through aggressions and alienation around camp. Aerion could only do so much to quell the hostility, so it was still up to Holden Darry to keep his men tough and resilient.

Aerion turned to Ser Stokeworth and asked about the defences at his family seat. Holden Darry took an interest in Ser Stokeworth's explanation of how he arranged patrols at his castle, and looked eager to learn more about military protocols. Aerion was glad to leave the conversation to young Holden and leaned back in his chair with a goblet of sweet wine.

The lords and knights broke into smaller conversations around the table, and passed around the new platters of cakes and fruits in a lighter mood.

After some time, someone lifted the heavy drapes of the tent exit and admitted a rush of cold air. Three armed men entered the command tent one after the other, all scruffy in face and clothing. The gathered noblemen turned their gazes to the sudden visitors.

Lorent and Lord Hayford led the way and shrugged off their thick cloaks. The maids hurried over to add new chairs for both lords and took over their discarded articles of clothing. Lorent Grandison and Lord Hayford had left camp a few days ago to patrol the Crownlands and Riverlands border – and they shouldn't have returned so soon by Aerion's estimation.

Another younger man, dressed in common foot soldier attire, looked like he had been on the road for quite some time. He wiped away the sweat and dirt from his face, which revealed dark circles around his eyes. Aerion examined the soldier closely and could not find any colours or sigil to identify him.

"He's a messenger from the Mootons." Lorent grabbed a glass of water and thirstily downed his drink. He clarified when some of the landed knights from the Stormlands seemed unfamiliar with the name. "Maidenpool."

A heavy _thump_ on the carpet made everyone look from Lorent to the ground. The soldier knelt before the table and pled, worry and urgency clear in his tone. "My lords, Maidenpool is besieged by House Hawick and House Vance. We are outnumbered six to one and cannot hold the castle for much longer! Lord William sent us messengers to find aid in the Crownlands."

He searched through an inside pocket and produced a sealed scroll to Lord Hogg, who was the closest to him. "Please! Maidenpool will fall in a week or so if we don't get reinforcement." The soldier locked eyes with Lord Hogg intensely before looking to all the lords at the table.

Lord Hogg was taken aback by the sudden plead and reached out hesitantly for the scroll. When he took the message over, Aerion could make out a small red salmon drawn on the parchment. _Red salmon on a white field, for House Mooton._

"We found him hiding two-days' ride from camp, no doubt trying to find out if we were Riverlands forces or Crownlands forces." Lord Hayford dropped into his chair and rubbed his temples tiredly. "He says that Maidenpool sacrificed hundreds of men to open a path through the siege – just for a handful of messengers to call for help."

"We left the patrol to our captains and rode back, in case we want to investigate his claim and send relief for Maidenpool." Lorent explained. "We only found him, though, no other messengers."

"I was with another rider, but we went separate ways near Harrenhal. There were lots of House Vypren men in the area and it weren't safe." The soldier answered in a clear voice, worried that the nobles were doubting the information.

Aerion furrowed his brow in consideration. "If what you claim is true, we will certainly offer help. No need to be on your knees." He gestured for the soldier to rise.

Holden Darry bit his lip at the mention of House Vypren. He looked to Aerion, "My lord, may I take a look at the letter? I can recognize Lord William Mooton's hand from his letters to my father."

Aerion nodded quickly in pleasant surprise. "You can? That's very helpful."

Lord Hogg handed the sealed letter to Holden. All eyes turned to the eldest Darry brother as he broke the wax seal and laid out the small piece of parchment. Holden scrutinized every line under the candlelight and Aerion found himself holding his breath as he waited.

"This is Lord William's hand." Holden spoke confidently and held the letter out for his younger brothers to see. The slightly younger Darry brother, at four and ten, nodded earnestly in confirmation.

"What does it say?" Lorent asked from his seat while Holden handed the letter to Aerion.

"Pretty much what his messenger said, and a request to march over as fast as we can." The letter was only a few lines. Aerion answered and slid the note across the table for others to read.

Lord Hayford narrowed his eyes, "How many men are defending Maidenpool? You said he is terribly outnumbered – did Lord Mooton not call his banners?"

The soldier straightened and replied, "We've only the garrison, around five hundred men left, my lord. Lord Mooton and Lady Viviana were held up at Riverrun for the House Tully weddings, and were only given permission to return to Maidenpool two weeks ago."

He clenched his jaw, "There wasn't enough time to gather banners and raise levies. House Hawick's forces blocked off the roads to Maidenpool when Lord Mooton didn't send weapons and horses to Riverrun as Lord Hoster commanded."

Lorent scratched his chin, "So five hundred men on guard. And how many men are besieging you?"

"Lord Mooton's estimate was more than three thousand, my lord, that was four days ago."

The noblemen at the table paused for a few minutes in thought. Without a map, a landed knight from the southern Crownlands spoke up. "How far is Maidenpool from here? Can we even do anything about it?"

The soldier turned to the knight. "Four or five days on fast horses, my lord."

Having just besieged several keeps and castles in the Stormlands, Aerion could understand House Hawick and House Vance's perspective. Maidenpool was not built as a fortress, but as a trade town and harbour. With such an advantage in numbers, the Riverlands Houses could force House Mooton to surrender soon enough – maybe a little longer if House Mooton's banners attempt to rescue their lord.

Only cavalry legions could relieve Maidenpool, as infantrymen would be too slow. Aerion had brought just under two thousand light cavalry, a mix of surviving Stonedance forces, Grandison forces, and Wendwater men. The only other House that had readily available cavalrymen was House Hayford. House Rykker and House Rosby are the remaining Crownlands Houses that have sizable cavalry legions, but they have not arrived at camp.

Aerion turned to Lord Hayford, "My lord, if we ride out in the next few days, we could get there in time to relieve the siege. We will have three thousand and two hundred cavalrymen, enough to secure the victory."

Lord Hayford bit hard on his lip and looked wary, "Lord Aerion, I want to help, truly. But I don't know if Ser Boros will allow me to take leave. Ser Boros was quite clear about how no divisions other than patrols were allowed to leave camp. We are to wait for the rest of the Crownlands forces to congregate."

"That was before House Mooton sent word for aid. We can't just watch Maidenpool invaded and sacked when we have ample time and men to do something about it!" Aerion countered.

Lord Hayford didn't answer and scratched the back of his head in contemplation. Aerion looked to Lord Hogg and the other landed knights at the table, but no one would meet his gaze. Holden Darry was holding Lord William's letter again. His lips pressed into a thin line as he sympathized with the fellow Riverlands House's position.

Lorent cleared his throat and suggested gently, "Aerion, let's go to Ser Boros and discuss this. He doesn't know yet."

Lord Hayford looked apologetic and torn, "Yes, my lord. If Ser Boros approves of the plan, I am more than happy to ride out with Stonedance's forces."

Aerion held out his hand to Holden for the letter. "Alright, let's go to Ser Boros."

The Crownlands army camp was bustling with activity as Aerion led Lorent and Lord Hayford from the command tent towards House Blount's camping grounds. The soldiers chatted over well-lit fire pits, some eating, some polishing weapons, and some running errands. The night air was chilly but refreshing to Aerion, having spent most of his day indoors.

Ser Boros' round pavilion was in view soon enough. The dome was painted in bright red while the walls were green, signifying House Blount's red bend sinister and green field. The colours were unmistakable even at night against torch light, and Aerion wondered how Ser Boros could sleep soundly in such a recognizable tent in times of war.

As Aerion got closer, he could make out the shining outlines of two black porcupines on the tent drapes. _House Blount's blazon is complete_.

But before Aerion and the other two lords behind him were within ten paces from the door, a guard rushed forward and blocked their way.

It took a second for Aerion to recognize the man, and he was one of Ser Boros' closest personal guards. Aerion raised an eyebrow and waited for the fellow to explain why he felt it appropriate to block the way of three high-ranking nobles.

The guard took half a step back and bowed respectfully, but he still blocked the direct path to Ser Boros' door. He scratched his nose and looked uneasy, "My lords, may I take a message for Ser Boros?"

"No, you may not." Lorent stepped forward to Aerion's side and crossed his arms, "We have something that needs his attention _**now**_. Get out of the way!"

The guard ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the green tent behind him. He stood his ground and offered weakly, "Ser Boros is … occupied right now. I will inform mi'lord of the matter as soon as he is free, and he can go over to the command tent?"

"Go tell your lord that we are all here waiting for him. With urgent matters." Aerion was slightly annoyed at what was happening. He needed to get Lord Hayford his peace of mind so they can plan their trip the rest of the evening.

The guard grimaced and considered Aerion's request. He stepped out of the way and hurried towards the tent, stopping at the closed drapes.

Seeing that the three lords are approaching, the guard cleared his throat and called out, "Mi'lord! Lord Aerion, Lord Lorent, and Lord Hayford are here, and have urgent matters to discuss!"

Aerion couldn't hear a response from Ser Boros. They waited for a few more breaths but still received no acknowledgement. Aerion nodded for the House Blount guard to try again.

"Lord Aerion, Lord Lorent, and Lord Hayford are here! Mi'lord?" The guard used a louder voice.

This time, Aerion could hear something from the tent. Suppressed giggles and squeals, from more than one source, as it seems.

The House Blount guard looked like he was ready to hide in a hole. He scratched his head and stumbled a few steps back in an effort to keep his distance.

_What a remarkable appetite Ser Boros has, for food and for women._ Aerion sighed deeply and debated whether he should interrupt Ser Boros or wait it out. Lorent was smirking in amusement while Lord Hayford tried to keep a straight face.

Whores weren't banned in camp, at least not for nobles. Aerion would gladly leave Ser Boros alone if it were any other night, but he needed the knight's endorsement to assemble the cavalrymen that he needed.

Light pleasured moaning could be heard from the tent followed by rough and husky chuckles. Some piece of furniture, a small stand perhaps, got pushed over. Another woman gasped loudly and joined in with laughter.

Aerion pursed his lips and decided that Ser Boros could very well get back to his business after their talk. If not, there is always tomorrow night to make up for his _activities_. He cleared his throat and called to the tent, "Ser Boros! You are needed out here!"

The laughing and the chuckles ceased. But Ser Boros was stubbornly holding out in his tent.

"It's urgent!" Aerion raised his voice and added a hardness in his tone. Lorent called out too, visibly annoyed that Ser Boros is wasting their time.

They waited for a little longer before they heard irritated huffing and heavy stomping of footsteps from inside. Ser Boros snarled about something under his breath but Aerion couldn't make out his words.

When Ser Boros' podgy figure emerged from his tent, his robes were sloppily thrown on and his hairy chest was exposed and perspiring. He fumbled with the laces of his breeches and was blinking fast to get used to the darkness outside.

Sharing a glance with Lorent and Lord Hayford, Aerion walked up to the disoriented knight. "Ser Boros, I apologize for the interruption, but I do have an important matter to share."

Aerion explained what happened while Ser Boros fixed his robes. When Ser Boros heard that it was Maidenpool that needed reinforcement, he scoffed and cut Aerion off mid-sentence.

"Fuck Maidenpool! I'm not wasting my men on those Riverlands sons of bitches. I'm telling you, they're all conspiring against us!"

Aerion clenched his fist so he wouldn't be tempted to smack the ill-tempered knight. He took a deep breath, "We have good reason to believe that House Mooton is loyal to the Iron Throne. Their House has always been loyal, and we've received no warning from the Red Keep to suspect otherwise."

"I don't see how Maidenpool is _**my**_ problem! It's their fault that they were too slow calling their banners. If House Darry could make it to our camp, then surely House Mooton could too if they tried harder."

"Again, Lord Mooton was held up in Riverrun. How would you have him call his banners against House Tully while he was under Lord Hoster's watch?" Aerion sighed, "I just need House Hayford's fourteen hundred horsemen. I'll bring the forces back within two weeks, I promise."

"My lord, I am happy to accompany Lord Aerion. It will be an easy fight since we are just driving the besieging army away." Lord Hayford offered.

Ser Boros shook his head wildly and glared daggers at Lord Hayford, "My orders from his grace is to assemble our troops. You can do whatever you like, Lord Aerion, as you answer directly to the King, but I won't allow our forces to split up. The soldiers who are already at camp will stay exactly where they are."

"Ser Boros, what will our other allies think of us if we do nothing? Why would other Houses fight for the Crown if we refuse to help our allies? The last thing we need is more enemies." Aerion tried to reason.

"You either stay loyal or you will have death. It seems like a clear choice to me." Ser Boros snorted, "I won't send a single soldier unless we get orders from King's Landing. I won't be responsible if something happens to the men if they leave camp."

He sneered and continued, "Besides, House Goodbrook sent word for aid last moon and I properly ignored them. They are cowards, running off to us instead of standing their ground."

Aerion took a slow and steadying breath and forced his words, "House Goodbrook requested aid and you ignored them?! On what _**grounds**_?"

"Because they're not worth my effort! Those Riverlands bastards can either make it here or die trying, that's karma for swearing allegiance to the damned Tullys in the first place."

A hundred ideas came to mind of how to drill some sense into Ser Boros Blount. _Just how much trouble would he get into, if he detained the knight and sent him back to King's Landing in a jail wagon?_ Aerion's thoughts also flew to House Goodbrook, a House that hasn't been mentioned to him in the war until now.

It's been too long since House Goodbrook's message; there is very little that Aerion can do. Maidenpool is what's important now and bickering with Ser Boros will not help. When Aerion spoke again, he tried a last argument.

"Myles Mooton is Prince Rhaegar's squire. He follows the Prince everywhere he goes." _Perhaps winning the Prince's favor will move Ser Boros_. "I'm sure Prince Rhaegar will be glad to hear that you took the initiative to save his squire's family seat."

"Myles Mooton?" Ser Boros raised an eyebrow, "Never heard of him. Even if that's true, he's just a squire. I've no orders from Dragonstone to pay special attention."

"If that's all, I'm going back to my tent." Ser Boros held up a finger at Aerion's protest, "Lord Aerion, you do need to loosen up and enjoy the free time before we march off. You can borrow one of my girls tonight, I won't mind."

He snickered at his own joke and waved them off, heading back to his tent.

Aerion watched behind Ser Boros and rubbed his brow to ward off a headache. Looking to Lord Hayford, Aerion tried to sway him, "My lord, your House does not answer to House Blount. We can ride out and return quickly. If the Red Keep asks, I will answer for both of us."

Lord Hayford had a pained looked and swallowed hard, "My lord, Ser Boros will report me to the King, and my words will mean nothing against his testimony. I really can't take part in this, I am sorry..."

Aerion kicked the dirt at his feet and breathed a heavy sigh. "I won't pressure you, but you do need to make your own decisions in due time. You rank higher than Ser Boros, or have you forgotten about that?"

Lord Hayford didn't answer and slumped his shoulders. Lorent glared at Lord Hayford and shook his head in disappointment.

Seeing that Lord Hayford won't change his mind, Aerion turned to leave. Sow's Horn must send aid to Maidenpool, especially after they've failed an ally in House Goodbrook. Aerion won't allow word to go around of how the Crown's army sat unmoved while their allies died in vain.

Aerion had half expected Ser Boros not to cooperate. It was why he tried to settle their plans back in the command tent. But Lord Hayford didn't fall for his insistence, and now House Hayford's cavalry is entirely out of the question. If worse comes to worse, he'll ride for Maidenpool on his own. It will be a risk worth taking.

* * *

_**Maidenpool, Riverlands, 283 AC** _

It was a great relief to see the pink stone walls of Maidenpool with its castle gates tightly shut. Sure, hundreds of enemy tents surrounded the castle, and organized arrays of soldiers under House Vance's banners were keeping all types of siege weapons busy, but at least Maidenpool hadn't been breached.

Two full-sized standards of House Mooton still flew from its castle walls, both tattered and smeared by dirt and smoke. A dozen disheveled guards were returning flaming arrows from the walls, but it was a trivial effort of resistance against House Vance's catapults. In contrast, the legion loyal to Riverrun were all dressed in polished armour and looked well-provisioned.

The focus of the battle at the moment was a battering ram, with the besieging army trying to haul it closer to the castle gates, and the defending garrison trying to rain arrows at the advancing soldiers and equipment. Two siege towers slowly followed the battering ram on either side, which further diverged Maidenpool's firepower.

After a last check that their men were ready and in position, Aerion gestured at Lord Rambton to sound the war horn. Their silent formation came alive in a thin patch of woods four hundred yards from House Vance's camp. All around Aerion, the Crownlands' cavalrymen raised their swords and charged to the long and low blast.

The thundering hoofbeats of an army immediately caught the attention of the besieging forces. Urgent calls of trumpet responded to the new threat from behind, and stunned Riverlands soldiers and commanders whirled around to brace for the clash. Aerion's Crownlands' forces flowed into the clearing like a river, devastating Riverlands arrays before most soldiers had processed what was going on.

_Thank the Seven that they had made it in time._ After the late-night meeting with Ser Boros, Aerion had spent two days deliberating in his tent about what he can do. An option would be to ride for Maidenpool on his own, but he would not have enough numbers to drive the besieging forces away for good. It would be a temporary relief for Maidenpool at best. Another option was to write to the Red Keep for a formal decree. Aerion was unsure of how the King and the Small Council will react to his request, and it would be too slow of a reply anyway.

On the fourth day, during a routine patrol meeting, House Hogg's scout had reported that House Rosby's forces were nearby. The Rosby twins, Kamden and Kaelyn, were leading their banners on behalf of their sickly uncle, and wanted to inform the host, House Hogg, their numbers and supplies.

Immediately after the meeting had adjourned, Aerion gathered his men and rode out of camp without bothering to notify most of the noblemen. Lorent had wanted to go with him, but the southern Crownlands infantry that he was leaving behind still needed a commander.

Aerion talked Lorent into staying and promised that he would be back quickly. He then led his men past Rosby's vanguard on their way out, as the Rosby banners were moved in.

After less than an hour's ride, Aerion and his two thousand cavalrymen met the main Rosby army in a valley. House Rosby hasn't engaged in any battles so far, and their three thousand soldiers and a thousand levies were perfectly intact. The army looked beautiful to Aerion, with their shining standards and lines upon lines of provision. They were Maidenpool's best chance.

The sudden appearance of another army took the Rosbys by surprise, but the tension eased quickly as Aerion's men did not unsheathe any weapons. Aerion wasted no time and explained everything as soon as he was led to Kamden and Kaelyn Rosby, commanding from the middle of their formation.

Kamden Rosby donned a frown when Aerion explained Ser Boro's reaction and his plans to go alone if he must. Kaelyn Rosby had a neutral expression and Aerion could not tell if she supported his plans or not.

Kamden then paused for some time to contemplate. "Uncle bid us to not upset Ser Boros Blount, given his influence at court… if Ser Boros is strict about not leaving camp… then I don't know…"

Kaelyn leaned towards her brother and whispered a few lines in his ear, a grin tugging at her lips when she was done. Aerion watched with some amusement but was mentally prepared to count the Rosbys out. _He didn't know that Lord Gyles Rosby was also nervous of Ser Boros – the twins will have to honor his wishes first and foremost._

To Aerion's surprise, Kamden sat up straighter and smiled at Aerion. "We will be glad to follow you, Lord Aerion. Our captain of the guards can take our infantry to Sow's Horn and settle in. Kaelyn and I can go with you with our two thousand cavalry."

Aerion couldn't hold back a relieved smile and thanked the twins sincerely. They settled on a fast trail north and rode despite the nearing dusk. They used another four days on the road, and Aerion dreaded the prospect of finding Maidenpool in ruins when they did arrive.

Against all odds, Maidenpool had held on another week and a half since their messenger's arrival at Sow's Horn. Judging by the piles upon piles of fallen men beneath the castle walls, Maidenpool's garrison had both suffered and caused significant casualties.

The battle plan to relieve Maidenpool was decided long ago. They would attack as soon as they reached the castle and hopefully catch the besieging army by surprise. Kamden Rosby had insisted on leading the charge with Lord Rambton, so Aerion opted to stay with a small reserve to observe and to protect Kaelyn. Kaelyn was a better strategist than a fighter, and keeping her away from the fighting was a unanimous decision.

Aerion waited on his horse with the reserve's two hundred men. They had enough numbers to overpower the besieging forces, so the plan changed from driving the enemy forces away to crushing the full legion. They would not let any lord or knight, or even foot soldier, to flee and bring news to Riverrun. The surrenderers will be prisoners at Maidenpool and every deserter will be chased down.

Aerion watched the edges of the battlefield for signs that a group might be planning to break off. Ser Grant had stayed by his side and was watching the battle intently as well. The cries and screams of men were fainter from hundreds of yards away, but the unmistakable scent of blood was quickly carried over by the wind.

Aerion relaxed a little and loosened his grip on his reins when the Riverlands forces seemed to be struggling to keep a uniform line of battle. Kamden and the bulk of Rosby forces were closing in on a group of House Hawick banners, that seemed to be part of House Hawick's command.

Glancing around him, his men were ready to charge with hooves of their horses digging anxiously at the dirt. Only Lady Kaelyn looked pale, with her lips pressed into a thin line as she observed the scene. Concerned, Aerion urged his horse towards her.

"My lady, are you alright?"

Kaelyn took a shaky breath and smiled weakly, "I am. I just – I just didn't expect the smell of blood to be so heavy, so smothering."

Aerion looked over to the battlefield and offered softly, "We will clear the field properly when it's done. It won't be too long now."

Kaelyn rubbed her nose and nodded. She stared up at the sky for a little while, as if trying to tune out the shouts and screams along with a myriad of other noises of battle. When she looked down, she held a steady gaze at the pink walls of Maidenpool.

Aerion scrutinized every faction of Riverlands soldiers who were putting up a tough defence. No sizable group seemed to be close to breaking free, which was a good thing. Seeing that Lady Kaelyn could probably use some distraction, Aerion asked, "What did you whisper to Kamden back in the valley, to convince him to come?"

Kaelyn smiled, "My brother is not as mischievous as I am; he doesn't think to bend the rules. Ser Boros wouldn't let anyone leave camp, but we weren't at camp yet, at least not our main forces."

"You are right, my lady." Aerion smiled back at her, "Maidenpool would be lost without House Rosby – thank you."

"It was the right thing to do. Kamden was only hesitant because uncle made him promise to not get in trouble. Plus, Maidenpool is our stronghold north of the Crownlands, we can't cede it to just four thousand garrison and levies."

"I agree. I am grateful to both of you."

They turned back to observe the battle, with Aerion checking the perimeter and Kaelyn focused near the gates of the castle. The besieging forces seem to dwindle in size, as their standards and banners are struck down and replaced by fresh Crownlands banners.

Maidenpool's garrison had stopped firing flaming arrows at the sight of reinforcements. Instead, they are throwing large boulders down at any Riverlands soldiers looking to retreat to the foot of the castle walls.

The group that formed House Hawick's defence could not be seen anymore. House Rosby's banners had swept the area and pushed Riverlands forces between their camp and Maidenpool's walls, leaving them less and less room for resistance.

When the Riverlands forces looked like they only had a few hundred men left, three urgent blows of trumpet rang across the field. The battlefield seemed to pause as most Riverlands soldiers looked to their command for confirmation.

One. Two. Ten. The remaining Riverlands soldiers dropped their weapons and standards where they were and held up their hands in surrender. Crownlands soldiers still trained their weapons at the enemy and waited for either Kamden Rosby or Lord Rambton's orders.

Two groups bearing House Rosby and Rambton colours rode toward the only House Vance standard left in the field. Aerion sat up straighter on his horse for a clearer view.

Soon, their warhorn sounded almost as a reply to the trumpets. Crownlands soldiers moved to line up the surrendered men and seize their discarded weapons. The last House Vance standard was taken down and most riders dismounted to help with the cleanup. _The Gods are kind; It was wasteful of men to put up a futile struggle._

Aerion looked to Ser Grant and gave the slightest nod. His retinue formed a tight circle around Aerion and Lady Kaelyn as they rode towards the castle to regroup with Kamden, Lord Rambton, and the Mootons.

Thousands of men lay dead on the bloodied grass, many bent and twisted in terrifying positions. _By the clash against horsemen_ , Aerion realized. Crows had already begun gathering and squawking to make out their territories, undeterred by Crownlands soldiers who were shooing the birds away to find fallen friends.

Some of the bodies were still alive. As the group passed, Aerion could hear faint moaning and whimpering from the carnage around them. Some wounded soldiers tried to reach his horse and boots as he rode on, their fingers brushing weakly against his boots and then dropping back down.

Lady Kaelyn wore a solemn look and kept her gaze evenly forward. Aerion's guards tried to shield her view as much as possible, but Aerion is sure that she is seeing and hearing the full scene as he is.

Kamden was unharmed, and so was Lord Rambton. Lord Rambton mumbled something about how it wasn't a thrilling enough fight, as his side had both the advantage of cavalry and the element of surprise. Kamden explained how he delegated his bannermen to oversee the cleanup, and how a pyre ceremony should be set up. The guards on the curtain walls stowed away their weapons and waved joyfully to the soldiers below as Maidenpool's gates slowly squeaked open.

They couldn't stay very long at Maidenpool. They stayed long enough to rest their men and to bury the dead, but a messenger from Lorent came and informed the group of Lord Jon Connington's defeat at Stoney Sept.

All four rebel armies were sighted at Stoney Sept, which means that the enemy has congregated and will be tougher to defeat. The Crown would need a powerful response to keep the war in their favor.

On the day they rode out, Lord William Mooton and Lady Vivianna escorted Aerion and the Rosbys a full mile outside of Maidenpool, repeating words of gratitude that their castle was not lost. Aerion apologized for not being able to stay longer and help, though Lord William was confident that he could get back most of his banners now that Maidenpool has been relieved. They agreed that House Mooton will ride for Sow' Horn, or wherever the main royalist forces are, once they are ready.

Aerion spent the ride back thinking about Stoney Sept and how the Red Keep might react. The Crown did not lose many men at the Battle of the Bells - the main issue rests at the humiliation of a professional army being defeated by a crude mob.

It was also an intriguing story that spread far and wide, of Robert Baratheon emerging from a brothel to kill some of the Crownlands' strongest warriors. Needless to say, the King was less than pleased with the smallfolk ridiculing the royalist army.

They can't afford to have split leadership back at camp, _which means that he will have to compromise with Ser Boros_. Aerion was getting a new headache just thinking about seeing the Ser again.

Next to him, the Rosby twins spent their time debating battle strategy and exchanging playful smacks at each other's jests. Having spent almost half a moon with the brother and sister, Aerion knew that the two could only maintain serious faces for so long before all smiles and smirks took over.

They spent five days on the trail before they reached the camp at the northern gates, where newly erected iron fences protected the camping grounds from enemy scouts. Sighting Stonedance and Rosby banners from afar, Sow's Horn's guards dutifully swung open the chained gates to admit Aerion and House Rosby's forces into the massive clearing.

_Something is different back at camp_. Aerion slowed his horse and realized that the northern side of their base is quite deserted. He glanced around him and met equally confused gazes from Lord Rambton, Kamden, and Kaelyn.

Leaving his men to dismount and settle in, Aerion urged his horse forward to find some answers. His retinue and the Rosbys followed close behind. _Where are most of the soldiers?_ The camp doesn't seem to have been breached and there is no sign of fighting or an emergency – _were the soldiers training? Who is leading them?_

They rode past rows and rows of tents, stables, canteens, and workshops. The camp was intended to hold more than thirty thousand men, and it took a while to get across the site.

When Aerion rode past the command tent, which stood in the approximate center of the camp, he could see more and more soldiers casually making their way to the southern gates. _Yes, there seems to be a lot more activity on this side of camp. More knights and nobles too._ They were all facing the south and strolling in that direction, with their backs to Aerion.

Shortly afterward, Aerion was close enough to see what was going on. Banners of the Reach filled the southern clearing of camp. He could count House Oakheart, House Tarly, House Caswell, and many other lesser households. The southern gates were wide open, and more standards were pouring in along with full legions of soldiers and fighters.

Aerion's heart skipped a beat when the mostly flowery banners of the Reach were replaced by a sigil that he couldn't believe he would see. More and more of the flag poured into the clearing, revealing a full legion of cavalry bearing red and black Targaryen colors.

A tall figure atop a majestic stallion was riding confidently in the lead, with a chubby man in Tyrell colors just half a step to his side. Three white cloaks followed a few paces behind and showed off their unemblazoned white shields. The small group rode past their vanguard and came to a gentle stop before the camp's greeting party.

The Crown Prince is cursedly beautiful. His piercing violet eyes and flowing silver hair somehow make him authoritative and warm at the same time. Unlike his retinue's stiff armor, he wore a simple embroidered doublet of crimson and a silver three-headed dragon brooch at his chest. He kept a serene smile as Sow's Horn's noblemen bowed low around him.


	14. The Fate of the Riverlands

**Author's Note:**

Hi all! I am back with another long chapter! 

I want to thank everyone for their incredible patience and support - it truly means the world to me. Please know that I have lots of chapters planned, and I **_will be_** finishing the story. I really hope you enjoy this new chapter, and please leave me your thoughts in the comments :) 

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Fate of the Riverlands**

_**Sow's Horn, Crownlands, 283 AC** _

"Why are we sending good men into House Bracken's trap to rescue the Lychester boy? The rest of his House is fighting alongside the Tully traitors!"

"Larry Lychester fostered with me!" Lord Caswell declared coolly from his seat, "He is a good lad, a loyal one above all else. He'll be a good help on our side."

"His four brothers are all captains for Robert Baratheon at Stoney Sept," Ser Boros snorted. "That boy will be their spy the moment he sets foot in camp. I say we leave him be, whether he gets taken to Riverrun or executed for mutiny."

"And I say that I'll go alone with just my guards if it needs be!" Lord Caswell exclaimed and glared at Ser Boros. "Larry only has two hundred guards from his House with him. We all know that two hundred is hopeless against House Bracken's barricade on the King's road, so let me go and retrieve him."

Ser Boros opened his mouth for another snide remark but was waved off. The Crown Prince, sighing quietly, put the issue to rest. "Lord Caswell, you are willing to vouch for Larry Lychester and I have no reason to doubt your words."

Turning his gaze from the slightly relaxed Lord Caswell, Prince Rhaegar's eyes found Lord Alton Celtigar, "Lord Celtigar, will you count five hundred men and accompany Lord Caswell on his trip?"

"Of course, your grace." Lord Celtigar dipped his head.

"Thank you." Prince Rhaegar nodded, "A thousand men between the two of you should be enough. You can make your plans and ride up the Kingsroad on the morrow."

Lord Caswell thanked the Prince for his trust and vowed to return to camp as quickly as he can.

Aerion stifled a yawn and glanced over the assembled noblemen at Prince Rhaegar's war council. After spending half the day in the command tent debating issue after issue, half of the nobles looked ready to doze off, and the other half looked like they couldn't care less about what is being decided by this point. The meeting had long moved onto lesser matters and even Aerion found himself tuning out the chatter.

The Prince and the newly arrived Houses of the Reach spent a week settling in at camp, during which the remaining Crownlands forces arrived as well. In the first few days, Aerion had tried everything he can to speak privately with Rhaegar. However, in seemingly perfect coincidences, the Prince was always busy meeting with another lord, sending letters inside House Hogg's keep, or inspecting the troops around camp.

Aerion offered to wait – even to wait outside the Prince's bedchambers for a brief moment to talk. It was Ser Barristan who pulled him aside and strongly hinted that he should find something else to do, for the White cloaks and servants were all given orders to direct the Lord of Stonedance away if Aerion tried to seek an audience.

Aerion didn't know whether he should laugh or be angry. _Was Rhaegar worried about seeing him? Afraid, even?_ It crossed his mind once or twice to force the confrontation. He could stop the Prince on the way to the dining hall or perhaps shoo away some noblemen during one of the Prince's meetings. _Maybe he will try that someday, if Rhaegar keeps him in suspense for too long._

On the other hand, it was perversely amusing to see the Prince uncomfortable. Whenever Aerion popped into a seat by Rhaegar's side, or brushed shoulders with the Prince around camp, Rhaegar would purposely avoid his gaze. When they sat for the war council, Aerion could swear that he saw a slight grimace from the Prince when he claimed the Prince's right-hand seat. It also forced the usual occupant of the Prince's right-hand side, Lord Mace Tyrell, to waddle to the left side.

In truth, what Aerion really wanted to know is where Lady Lyanna is. _Questions of why Rhaegar ran off, where he has been, why he didn't send word could all wait._ Lady Lyanna, if she is still alive, was the key to resolve the whole mess. Once both sides amass their full forces, which inches closer day by day, there will be a determinative battle yielding many times the casualties they have seen so far – and Aerion wanted nothing more than to halt the conflict before then.

And so, instead of getting the Crown Prince to talk, Aerion spent his time interrogating the Prince's retinue for information. Myles Mooton, who was wholeheartedly thankful to Aerion for lending aid to his family, offered to do anything for Aerion except to betray his liege's confidence. Ser Oswell Whent employed the same tactic as his grace, which involved actively avoiding Aerion at every opportunity. Ser Barristan, who had been sent by King Aerys II to find the Prince, was comfortable in his ignorance of most of the Prince's activities.

The only pieces of information that Aerion learned from the older Kingsguard were that he had found the Prince at Highgarden, and that the larger party started to march north before the Battle of the Bells.

The Prince had also dismissed Lady Olenna Tyrell's counsel to send Highgarden forces to attack Storm's End. The Prince asserted that Storm's End has been in full lockdown for more than a moon by House Swann, and there was no good reason to send more men east. _At least they've got one wise decision from Prince Rhaegar – they do need more soldiers here closer to the rebel forces._

The Crown Prince cleared his throat, "Any word from Prince Oberyn?"

Lord Hogg spoke up, "My Maester received a raven from Prince Oberyn, your grace. The Dornish legion has reached Lord Wendwater and will be here in another ten days or so."

The Prince smiled, "That's great news. They crossed the Stormlands without trouble?"

"Nothing of concern. House Swann is staying put outside of Storm's End with five thousand soldiers, while House Dondarrion's forces are tracking down a group of mercenaries who were looting our Crownlands border villages."

"Right. The Baratheons still have friends and gold in Essos to enlist mercenaries." Lord Sunglass drawled irately.

"Mercenaries are not enough to break the siege or cause too much trouble." The Prince sighed, "We can let them be for now."

The lords and knights around the long table murmured in agreement. Lord Rambton looked to Aerion at the mention of looting near the Crownlands borders. If the mercenary troops sneak past Lord Wendwater's patrols, they will reach Massey's Hook and Stonedance banners' lands.

Seeing Lord Rambton's concern, Aerion gave a reassuring smile and a nod of acknowledgment. It was a risk that they have to live with. The Baratheons can't do much else other than stirring up trouble in their holdings. Aerion had left a portion of the garrison in place to protect Stonedance and his banners' seats. The trade-off for taking more men north with him meant letting some of the looting slide. The most Aerion could do is to ask Lord Wendwater to arrange more frequent patrols towards Massey's Hook.

"Ser Stokeworth, you led the last patrol," the shy knight was startled to be called upon by the Crown Prince, "Could your party make sighting of the Westerlands courier yet?"

"N—No, your grace. We patrolled to the small river and turned back." Ser Stokeworth stammered.

"Ah, not yet." The Prince nodded to himself. "If what we heard from the Red Keep is true, we should be expecting Tygett Lannister and some couriers by the turn of the moon. How should we set up the negotiations with the Westerlands?" He directed the question to the room.

"Your grace, respectfully, the Westerlands has stayed out of this war for far too long. Lord Tywin should be sending soldiers, weapons, and supplies, not an envoy to make plans! The Lannisters are just hiding behind empty words!" A young knight from the Reach spat with annoyance.

"Aye, we should demand reinforcements out of Golden Tooth. That'll put pressure on Pinkmaiden and Riverrun." Another Crownlands knight chimed in.

"My soldiers lost horses and weapons at Stoney Sept – we could use some Lannister gold to arm the men."

"Lannister gold! We could bribe some Riverlands Houses to our side and take over Riverrun much faster, your grace!"

"The Westerlands can raise at least forty thousand men. That's enough to quash the rebels once and for all!" Ser Hunt pounded on the table with his fist in anticipation.

"I don't know... Lord Tywin is a bold and thoughtful commander. Him staying out of this war thus far is unsettling… maybe we ought to station some troops by the Blackwater Rush to guard our west side, your grace." Aerion nodded subtly at Lord Paxter Redwyne's word of caution. He had heard that the Lord of the Arbor is a capable military commander both on land and at sea. The Tyrells are lucky to have both Paxter Redwyne and Randyll Tarly sworn to them.

"That's wasting our numbers I'd say. If Lord Tywin wanted to declare for Robert Baratheon, he would have done so already. He wouldn't be sending his brother Lord Tygett to our camp!" A landed knight from the Prince's retinue argued.

Prince Rhaegar observed the reactions around the table and rubbed his chin in thought. He spoke up when the debate seemed to die down. "Thank you all, my lords. There is certainly a lot more to think through."

Rhaegar paused before announcing, "Aerion, Lord Tyrell, Lord Tarly. And Lord Rykker and Lord Sunglass. Let's discuss this matter in detail before Tygett Lannister arrives. I shall ask Prince Oberyn to join us if he makes it in time."

Aerion nodded along with the others who were called. _Adjourn the council, Rhaegar._

Aerion's wishes were answered after Rhaegar took some last questions from the crowd. To his credit, the Prince asked the room if he had missed anything of import. When he was satisfied that there was nothing more, he declared the meeting adjourned.

The more impatient nobles jumped out of their seats and exited the stuffy tent at once. A number of the more concerned lords stayed behind to advise Rhaegar of their thoughts on Lord Tywin, on Dorne, and on everything else.

Rhaegar stood and greeted each lord warmly. _Probably making each of them feel very special to be lecturing the Crown Prince._ Even though they're all repeating the same concerns, the Crown must still appreciate their loyalty and counsel.

Aerion hid his smirk behind his sleeve and reached for a pitcher of wine. He was in no hurry for the rest of the afternoon, and Rhaegar could not make any foolish excuses to hide away from him. And so, Aerion sat back and waited for the Prince to move through the line-up of nobles.

The last to leave was Lord Hogg. Prince Rhaegar walked halfway to the exit with him and watched the host of Sow's Horn hurry away to dispatch patrols. The tent fell silent again as the only occupants left in the massive tent are Aerion, Prince Rhaegar, and Ser Barristan.

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and waited for Aerion to break the silence. Aerion merely smiled back and sipped more wine from his cup, determined to get the stubborn Prince to speak first.

Rhaegar chuckled lightly to himself and strode back to the table. He too reached for the wine and poured himself a glass. Rhaegar then took a slow sip and seemed to be savouring the taste.

The uncanny silence continued for some time. Ser Barristan moved closer and found a comfortable spot to watch over the seated cousins. He kept a neutral expression and admired the embroidered drapes of the tent.

Finally, the Prince leaned back in his chair and sighed, "You did well, Aerion. King's Landing would have been in danger if you didn't hold the Kingsroad."

Aerion looked up to the Prince in surprise, he had mentally prepared for another topic entirely. He paused and set down his cup, "I sent men to look for you, along the Blackwater Rush and down through the Roseroad."

"I know. Your banners were hard to miss."

"Then why didn't you send word? I wouldn't have told Dragonstone or the Red Keep if that was your concern. I needed to know what you were planning to not accidentally mess it up, Rhaegar!"

"You did just fine; you didn't mess up anything." Prince Rhaegar had the audacity to chuckle. "I was expecting more losses in the southern Crownlands, so good thing we held up well against the Stormlands."

 _You mean my soldiers held up well – my fighting men, Dragonstone's banners, and Wendwater banners._ Aerion took a deep breath and relaxed his clenched fist, "Where is Lyanna Stark, Rhaegar?"

Rhaegar shook his head and directed the conversation away, "Dorne will be here soon and we will have almost fifty thousand in numbers. I want to finish up the Baratheons and the Starks before the Neck. That way, Riverrun and Jon Arryn will have a good reason to surrender."

"I am going to ask you again, because you and I both know that she is the key to end the fighting." Aerion held the Crown Prince's gaze, "Where is Lyanna Stark? Is she still alive?"

"Of course she's alive. What reason do I have to harm her?" Rhaegar sounded deeply offended by the suggestion.

Aerion shrugged, "The story holds that the lustful Prince forced himself on a helpless maiden, and when she resisted, served her flesh for the pleasure of his guests. I've no evidence to prove the tale untrue."

"Surely you don't believe rumours from the smallfolk? You know that I can never hurt Lya – she went with me on her own choice." Rhaegar protested, setting his cup back on the table with more force than necessary.

"She left with you? She is betrothed to another and she was to return north with her family. What you say is hard to believe." Aerion scoffed even though the Crown Prince's tone was genuine.

The Prince almost took the bait. His lips pressed tightly into a line as he considered what he should say. "Lady Lyanna is not part of this. She will not be going back to the North, if that's what you're suggesting."

"Why not? You will imprison her, the Seven knows where, with no just cause? Even Aegon the Unworthy didn't kidnap noble maidens on a whim."

"I am not _**imprisoning**_ her, Aerion." The Prince's eyes were closed as he rubbed his temples with his knuckles.

Aerion narrowed his eyes at Rhaegar and waited. When more answers didn't come, Aerion softened his voice, "Then help me understand. Why are we going to war when Lyanna Stark can help us make peace?"

Rhaegar drew a deep breath. Ser Barristan shifted in his spot and rested his gaze on the maplewood long-table between Aerion and the Crown Prince.

"Lya _**must be**_ with me; it is her fate to realize the prophecy." Rhaegar sighed as if he was stating the obvious, "Rhaenys is born to the sun of Dorne, and Visenya will be born to the ancient Kings of Winter. It was written into the stars, Aerion, of how my son will have his song of ice and fire."

 _ **Fucking Hell.**_ Aerion's head snapped up to Rhaegar's passionate declaration. This is Rhaegar's endgame? _**This?**_

Rhaegar looked pensive reminisced about the past few moons, "Thank the Gods I got to Lya's side in time, or she would have been wedded. You should have been there when I explained everything to her – it was like she finally found her fate."

 _Targaryen madness?_ _No,_ _ **Rhaegar madness**_.

Aerion looked to Ser Barristan to confirm that he had heard everything correctly and found the knight standing still with his gaze casted forward, perfectly calm. Decades of service under the Mad King would do that to a person, to betray no emotion whatsoever, he mused half-heartedly.

"Gods, if I had to do one thing for our dynasty, it is this." The Prince looked almost relieved that his secret has been revealed, "We are all spectators to history being made, Aerion. Lya is the key. Lya's child will secure Aegon's reign. My vision has told me everything I need to know."

Aerion made an effort to maintain civility and controlled his urge to shake the Prince until some sense gets to him. He started carefully with a deep frown, "You are saying that you are _**involved**_ with Lyanna Stark; and beyond that, you hope to _**have a child**_ with her."

Rhaegar laughed at Aerion's articulation, "She is my wedded wife, Aerion. She is of House Targaryen now. When this is all over, we shall announce it to the realm."

Aerion felt a tightness in his chest that sucked away his next breath. _**Wedded.**_ He dreaded to find out the consequences of that word. He thought of the war that had torn the realm apart, and then the ten thousand Dornish fighters who are coming their way.

"Who else knows of you and Lyanna, Rhaegar?" He decided on his question and choked out the words. There might still be a way to contain this.

"Not many yet," Rhaegar admitted, "You, Ser Barristan, some of my retinue who went south with me, and probably Lord Varys."

"It's not too late to contain this, Rhaegar." Aerion leaned forward and used the most severe tone that he has ever used on the Crown Prince, "We can make up a story for why Lyanna had to disappear. We can still give her back to Winterfell and pay restitution for Rickard and Brandon Stark. We can still end the fighting. _**Please.**_ "

"What? Have you misunderstood?" Rhaegar narrowed his eyes in irritation, "It is done. I've wed her in front of a Septon and lived together as husband and wife. She –"

"But _your grace_ ," Aerion interjected before he could fall nauseous to the Prince's recklessness, "no one has to know your history. Return her to Winterfell where she _belongs_ and make peace for your Kingdom. The union between you and Lyanna cannot be legitimized –"

" _Why not?_ " Rhaegar's voice was steady and he held his chin high, "We spoke our vows before the Seven faces of God. My marriage to Lya is as true as my marriage to Elia. Questioning our union will be treason. I will see to it."

"We don't know if your vision is faulty! Half of the Seven Kingdoms are in revolt, and we still can't trust the Lannisters and the Greyjoys. You needn't tip the balance at such a sensitive time."

"It had to be done, Aerion, for there wouldn't be another chance. Lya had set a date with the Baratheons." The Prince repeated calmly, "And my vision is not faulty. You've never had visions, so you wouldn't understand."

"You don't think it's too much of a leap? To have Dorne symbolize fire and the North symbolize ice? The prophecy is thousands of years old; its original meaning is anyone's guess!"

The Prince was shaking his head, so Aerion made another offer, "Please, Rhaegar. If you want Lyanna, you can keep her at court as a mistress! You could even set aside the Princess and marry her later on. But you can't run off with her and expect the North and everyone else to obediently fall in line!" Aerion gestured at the four Kingdoms on the map that have declared against the Iron Throne.

Rhaegar followed to look at the map and snorted, "I admit that the King was in the wrong to execute the Starks… But as for the rebellion, if these Houses would rebel over a _girl_ , I wouldn't say they were very loyal to begin with."

Aerion frowned and let the Prince's words settle in. _So he would take no responsibility?_ Rhaegar was sounding dangerously apathetic to all the casualties and suffering that he has caused.

The room was suddenly cold and Aerion felt an ache at the back of his throat. Rhaegar is not seeing that his spur of the moment judgment is not only affecting his person, but all those aligned with the Crown. He has put all of their allies in a difficult position to overcome their moral blame of the Prince and to risk their lives for a weak cause...

 _Dragonstone._ If Princess Elia has heard rumours, would she ask her brother to retaliate against Rheagar? Aerion honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. "And Dragonstone? Does the Princess know of what you did?"

"Dragonstone knows nothing. What time do I have to go to Dragonstone?" Rhaegar growled, "I would have, if Sow's Horn was in good shape and ready to march for Riverrun. But no, you all sat here and needed me in command."

Aerion clenched his jaw. _We sat here because the Red Keep wouldn't give us orders to do anything else._ He thought of debating the Crown Prince out of his saviour complex but decided it wasn't worth it. "Then where are you keeping Lyanna Stark? Surely King's Landing or Dragonstone will be safer for her if you--you've wedded her?"

Rheagar shook his head, "I've thought it through. I'm keeping Lya safe in the South until this conflict is over. I won't let her be troubled by this. And I don't want Elia or Dorne to get any ideas to harm her."

 _Too late. Even a fool can see that she will be scrutinized for the rest of recorded history as the maiden who sparked a war._ Aerion gripped tight on the arm of his chair and felt that he had to argue for Princess Elia's sake, "You shouldn't have broken your vows like this, Princess Elia has done nothing to deserve such a treatment."

Prince Rhaegar sighed deeply and conceded, "Elia has been a dutiful wife to me, I will not deny that. And her reward is that her son will sit on the Iron Throne. For her son's sake and for what Dorne will gain, she will see that it's worth it."

"It's really not that simple. I wouldn't be surprised if Prince Oberyn refuses to aid us or declares for Robert Baratheon when he learns of this." Surely Rhaegar can acknowledge the real risks of his actions.

"Dorne will fight for the Crown." Rhaegar did not hesitate. "They are tied too closely with me to turn away now. They too have an interest to see Aegon on the Iron Throne."

When Aerion sat silently in his seat, deep in thought, Rhaegar continued, "I've thought of everything through. I won't let the realm fall apart – you have to trust me this once."

 _If you had put your mind to it, you would have warned me before you did anything drastic, like I asked you to._ Aerion stared at the Crown Prince, his mind racing of what he could do to make the situation better.

The Prince softened his tone at Aerion's deep frown and pause, "Aerion, I thought you of all people would understand. I've explained to you in King's Landing – Aegon is the prince that was promised! He is sent by the Gods to bring glory to the Seven Kingdoms."

Aerion thought to remain silent as the dutiful Lord of Stonedance was expected to do, but he couldn't help but try to sway the Prince, "We don't need glory, Rhaegar, we just need peace. Is it really worth it, to drag the Kingdoms into war over a theory of yours?"

Rheagar's lips pressed tightly into a line before he spoke, "It's not a theory, but a true prophecy. When we look back years and years from now, you'll see that I am right."

Aerion massaged his forehead and rolled his eyes where the Prince couldn't see. He had been expecting a sensible, if not apologetic, Rhaegar. Instead, the Prince is consumed by his own strange calling, and is more concerned for his potential legacy than protecting his people.

Rhaegar leaned toward Aerion when Aerion didn't respond, "Lya, the prophecy, Aegon – they're all matters for the future. Can I count on you to help me crush this ridiculous rebellion _**right now**_?"

Aerion bit on his lip and entertained the idea of saying "no" to the Prince. It is an appealing option, since he could leave camp this every day and not deal with Rhaegar's madness. On the other hand, can they really afford to quarrel when tens of thousands of enemy soldiers are waiting to bring down their dynasty?

Aerion found himself meaning his words more than he would have wanted, "Of course, Rhaegar. My banners and I are here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin." Prince Rhaegar smiled from his seat. Ser Barristan shifted his weight from one foot to another and his sheathed sword clanged against his silver armour.

Aerion watched Rhaegar relax slightly against his seat and reach to pull the map on the table closer to his person. The Prince studied the Riverlands area and traced his hand over the Kingsroad and the Goldroad.

The Prince mumbled to himself. He seemed to be reading the names of the Keeps and Towns along the Goldroad west. Aerion raised an eyebrow and sipped from his drink.

"Should we march north to meet Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark or west to siege Riverrun? West is the more direct route to reclaim the Riverlands, but I can't tell what Tywin Lannister is planning." Rhaegar's question sounded more like a statement and Aerion didn't know if he was expected to answer.

"I want to take Acorn Hall and Pinkmaiden if we go west." Rhaegar looked up at him this time, which means he should jump in, "But do you think we will be prolonging this war if we don't meet the rebel allies head-on?"

Aerion scanned over the map and gave a tentative answer, "That is your decision, your grace. We can work with both strategies."

Rhaegar rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh. He poured himself another glass of wine and stared at the keeps and holdings between the Crown's army and the rebels.

Aerion opened and closed his mouth. Seeing Rhaegar distraught was part of what he wanted, _to let the grievous consequences of his foolishness sink in_. From a rational perspective, he has already said too much. He should have confronted Rhaegar, as he was entitled to, but not push the Prince as he did.

It is like he hasn't learned his lesson from after the tourney at Harrenhal. It is not his place to pass judgement, for he is only there to serve and to advise if _called upon_. Rhaegar has already been generous by indulging him with this conversation; Aerion shuddered to think what would happen if he ever addressed King Aerys II with a similar tone.

Aerion hesitated before speaking. He didn't want to take an even more active role in strategizing for the Crown's army. The Lord of Stonedance was supposed to be loyal, but unnoteworthy. His previous trip to Maidenpool could be excused by the fact that there was no clear leadership at camp, but Rhaegar is here now, and the Prince should be in full command.

"Rhaegar, I–"

"What if we–" Rhaegar spoke up exactly when Aerion did. The Prince donned a smile and stopped mid-sentence. He nodded at Aerion, "Go ahead, Aerion."

Aerion returned a small smile. This will be his last piece of contribution to their cause, he decided. After this, he will follow Rhaegar to wherever the Prince needs, but he won't be voluntarily taking on more responsibility. He needs to retreat to the sidelines before the King's cynicism makes him a target.

"If you are worried about the Lannisters, I have something to draw Lord Tywin to our side."

"What do you have?" Rhaegar frowned and held Aerion's gaze.

Aerion took a deep breath and lowered his voice, "Brightroar. If Lord Tywin stays loyal and commits Westerlands soldiers to fight for us, we can give him Brightroar."

"You have _**what**_?!" Rhaegar gasped in disbelief. Ser Barristan unconsciously took half a step forward, and the Prince raised a hand as if to calm the room and himself.

Aerion didn't answer and merely nodded in confirmation.

"How?" The Prince crossed his arms and stared intensely at Aerion.

"I've only acquired it very recently," Aerion continued with a story about how his envoy to the Free Cities discovered the sword in an auction. About how it was disguised as any other rusted and decorative sword, but his men managed to bring it back to examine it further.

Aerion hasn't decided if offering up Brightroar is a good idea, but he wasn't about to betray his men and his lord father by sharing the true story. What kind of a message will he send, if the Lord of Stonedance actively sought out a Valyrian steel sword when the Crown doesn't even possess such a weapon? He would be expected to present it to the King the first chance he had.

Rhaegar might be thinking of the same thing. The Prince narrowed his eyes in thought but did not dispute Aerion's story, "This was after we parted ways in King's Landing? You didn't tell me!"

Aerion explained plainly, "It was later than that. I had no way to reach you by then – I am sorry for not telling you sooner."

Rhaegar didn't reply but rubbed on his chin in thought. Aerion quickly continued before the Prince becomes tempted to keep Brightroar for himself, "This is about winning Lord Tywin to our side, your grace. Lord Tywin won't swayed by gold and ordinary gifts; Brightroar might be one of the last things that will buy us his pledge."

The Prince considered the argument, "You're right, the man has little to no wishes beyond correcting that unfortunate younger son of his."

Aerion nodded enthusiastically, he didn't want to offer up Brightroar just so the Prince can intercept it.

Rhaegar scratched the back of his head and groaned, "But this is _**Brightroar**_! Are you sure that you have the genuine sword? Wouldn't it be better to keep it for our House? We'll finally have Valyrian steel after we lost Dark Sister!"

Aerion sighed. That would be ideal, yes, but they needn't push the Westerlands further away by flaunting the Lannister heirloom. _Might as well get some value from it, before they have to return it to Casterly Rock as a gesture of friendship anyway._

Ser Barristan spoke up when the Prince still looked torn, "My Prince, I think Lord Aerion's proposal has merit. Lord Tywin will be much more enthusiastic to send gold and soldiers if he can recover Brightroar for his House."

The Prince clasped his hands together. " _ **Fine**_. The Lannisters will have to send at least fifteen thousand trained men right away, with a competent commander to lead them too, like Kevan Lannister or Roland Crakehall."

"We will accept no one other than Kevan Lannister," Aerion agreed, "Better to have a Lannister with us in case Lord Tywin has second thoughts."

"Good point." Rhaegar nodded, "I do want to see the sword, though. Will you bring it to my chambers before supper?"

"Of course."

"And don't worry, Aerion. Send me a note of how much you spent at the auction, and the Crown shall pay you back tenfold."

 _Putting a price on Brightroar felt wrong, even if it's a fake price._ Aerion flashed a polite smile, "That's very generous, thank you."

Rhaegar waved at him to take his leave. Aerion stood from his seat but needed to discuss one more issue, "I have one last note about the Stormlands, Rhaegar."

Rhaegar tilted his head expectantly. Aerion continued with a softer tone, "I suggested some promises to House Swann in exchange for their loyalty and their siege of Storm's End."

"What promises?" Rhaegar frowned.

"Lord Gawen wants to be raised to Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Or, he will take the Hand of the King and a share of Storm's End's income for a long time." Aerion added when Rhaegar drew a sharp breath, "But nothing is set in stone – I promised to advocate for him to you and the Small Council."

"These are not offers that you can make and keep, Aerion," The Prince sounded agitated, "I wasn't planning to exile Stannis and Renly Baratheon, and thus I won't be naming a new Lord Paramount… As for the Hand of the King, Olenna Tyrell had her eyes on that for her son."

"Sorry," Aerion dipped his head, "I just thought that House Swann is an important ally to have. Lord Swann can call almost six thousand fighters from his banners, his men would have made Robert Baratheon a bigger threat."

"Since when does the Iron Throne _**buy**_ all of its loyalty? Loyalty should be the default, not the exception!" Rhaegar cried, visibly impassioned.

The Prince's voice was loud enough to ring in Aerion's ears. _You will make a more compelling case if the King was actually a benevolent monarch_. Aerion kept his gaze low and stayed quiet.

The Prince calmed down when neither Aerion nor Ser Barristan reacted to his outburst. He waved more determinedly at Aerion's direction as his dismissal. "I will keep in mind what you told Gawen Swann."

Aerion pushed back his chair and went on his way. He almost had a foot out of the tent when the Prince drawled casually behind him.

"Aerion, wasn't your lady mother a Swann?"

Aerion stood still and rolled his eyes with his back to the Prince. _Really? Did he not just offer Brightroar to clean up the Prince's mess?_

Aerion half-turned to answer the question, "She was, your grace."

Rhaegar was expecting him to elaborate, possibly to distance himself from his grandfather's ambitions. But Aerion didn't feel like giving Rhaegar that satisfaction. _If the Prince wishes to be paranoid, then he should suffer the nuisances that come with it._

"Hmm." Rhaegar chuckled lightly, "I just wanted to make sure I remembered correctly. I will see you later in the day?"

Aerion nodded stiffy and turned back towards the exit. The sun felt warm on his face when he finally made it outside.

* * *

_**Sow's Horn, Crownlands, 283 AC** _

Aerion strolled through the bustling war camp after seeing Lord Randyll Tarly off for his three-day patrol. The sun was setting quickly, and the party had ridden out chasing the last hues of orange and crimson. It was one of the last patrol missions they've scheduled, as the Crown's forces will be moving North in less than ten days.

Lord Randyll definitely lives up to his reputation. He is iron-willed and fiercely loyal to his liege. Aerion admired that of Lord Randyll, of staying true to his principles and unafraid to raise criticism when he sees flaws. A conversation with the man over battle strategy even intrigued Aerion into rethinking the weaknesses of his default infantry formation.

Aerion also got to see a more personable side of the Lord of Horn Hill. Apparently, his wife just gave him his first son before he raised levies. Lord Randyll's eyes had glimmered with pride when he shared that his son was a strong babe who cried louder than most 3 months-olds when calling for his wetnurse.

Aerion had asked if he misses home, and Randyll Tarly took a long pause before he answered _. All men miss home while marching into war; he and his banners were no exception. He just prays that their efforts will bring lasting peace to his lands and people._

To that, Aerion could not agree more. He wished Lord Randyll a smooth journey and watched the fifty riders disappear by a thin forest to the west of camp gates.

They were losing the last bits of light as soldiers prepared campfires twenty or so strides apart. Aerion only has Ser Grant, Terrance, and two other guards with him, and the four now chatted amicably behind him.

Seeing Prince Oberyn in armour was a rare sight. The Red Viper is known to be deadly in battle, of course, but Aerion has not seen Oberyn Martell dressed for war for at least half a decade.

The Dornish Prince was flushed from physical exertion and was facing one of his guards in sparring practice. His round steel shield was discarded close to where Aerion was walking by, and he was attacking and defending with only his long spear.

Prince Oberyn's guard went after an opening with his sword and the two weapons bounced off each other in midair. The Red Viper recovered ground faster than his opponent and jabbed his weapon right at the fellow's chest, which forced the guard to step back and raise both hands in surrender.

"Who's next!?" The Prince grunted through his breaths. The Dornish guards around cheered their Prince's victory in a loose circle around the sparring yard.

Aerion could not be sure of what went on inside the Crown Prince's private chambers after the fiery Prince of Dorne stormed into camp with ten thousand fully armed cavalry. Covered in dust and sweat from his long journey, Prince Oberyn pushed past all the noblemen who were there to greet him and went straight for Rhaegar's chambers.

The whitecloaks had to step in when the shouting got too loud and the Crown Prince's privacy was at stake to onlookers. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell drove away every wandering nobles and servant in the vicinity, while Prince Lewyn appeared all too distracted to perform his Kingsguard duties.

Neither Prince Rhaegar nor Prince Oberyn had spoken a word of their _conversation_ since. Although the Dornish legion is still at camp, and Prince Oberyn has not been openly resistant to Rhaegar's orders, Aerion still worried about whether a small unpleasantness will set off their rift. There were compelling rumours going around of how the Dornish Prince curses bitterly whenever Rhaegar's name is brought up.

He felt for Prince Oberyn, truly. He was beyond disappointed with Rhaegar even as a cousin for how the Prince betrayed his marriage, and Oberyn could only feel worse as Elia's flesh and blood.

Prince Oberyn kicked away the weapon of another guard who was duelling him. "Anyone else?" he called to the crowd.

"Prince Oberyn, I don't think we've trained together yet," Aerion stepped forward before another Dornish guard volunteered, "How about we try a round?"

Oberyn narrowed his eyes and glanced at Aerion up and down. He wrinkled his nose when he couldn't come up with a good rejection, "Fine."

Aerion could swear that he heard " _another dragonspawn_ " muttered under Prince Oberyn's breath. Aerion smirked to himself and unsheathed his longsword.

Fifteen yards away, Prince Oberyn took his place and levelled his spear. Aerion knew that he had to be careful, as the Dornish Prince looked thirsty for Targaryen blood. _I guess it doesn't matter to him if it's my blood or Rhaegar's._

Not waiting for Oberyn to make the first move, Aerion took two long strides and brought his sword down at the Prince's head. The Prince dodged the strike easily and skipped aside. Aerion turned to face Oberyn's new position to deflect the sharp point of his charging spear, and an ear-splitting _clang_ sent a numbness up Aerion's sword arm.

"Rhaegar is in the wrong in this," Aerion breathed when Oberyn moved closer, "But I hope you can make peace with him for at least this war."

Oberyn had a deep frown and didn't answer. He whirled towards Aerion and aimed right at the gap in the boiled leather under Aerion's arm.

Aerion was surprised by how Oberyn was using his full weight to tackle him. He was rammed back for a few paces before he held his ground. Aerion waited for the Red Viper to launch at him again, and this time slashed back at Oberyn's shoulders.

They moved back and forth in a choreographed dance of swords. Aerion was never as gifted as Ser Arthur Dayne or even Randyll Tarly, but he had made sure to train enough so he was capable of protecting himself.

Their dual followed a general pattern. Prince Oberyn would jab with his spear, and Aerion would be busy dodging the spearpoint while sending scratches and scrapes on Oberyn's steel breastplate.

Aerion tried again when they pushed close, "Please, Oberyn. Let's focus on the war for now?"

The Dornish Prince gave him a venomous glare. He steadied himself and charged again, determined to force Aerion into a surrender.

Aerion brought up his sword to block another thrust and directed Oberyn's momentum to his side. This cause Oberyn to lose his balance for a second, which gave Aerion an opportunity to slide his sword against Oberyn's bare neck.

Oberyn was breathing heavily but did not dare to move. Aerion shifted his sword from just an inch away from Oberyn's throat to a respectful distance from the Prince's shoulders.

The Red Viper was still holding his weapon, so Aerion didn't press for a formal surrender. He pulled back his weapon and spoke honestly, "You were tired from training; I had a clear advantaged this round."

The Prince still said nothing. He stretched his shoulders when Aerion took down the sword and straightened his armour. He then called for his guards to gather their belongings and retire to their campground.

Aerion pursed his lips and stepped to the side. The Dornishmen collected their shields and weapons in silence, wary of their Prince's mood. Prince Oberyn paused before walking away with his retinue, and circled back to where Aerion was standing with his nostrils flaring.

"Rhaegar is hiding that whore in Dorne." Oberyn spat, next to Aerion's ear. His breastplate shoved against Aerion's leather armour as he tried to look as imposing as possible, "I will find her, whatever it takes."

Aerion swallowed hard when the Prince pulled away. In a matter of seconds, the yard was only left with him and Stonedance men.

"My lord, are you feeling unwell?" Ser Grant asked after examining Aerion for injuries.

Aerion shook his head. He turned on his spot and found the torchlight from the curtain walls of Hogg's Keep. Without a word, Aerion rushed in the direction of the Keep gates. He was only partially aware that his men hurried to follow him.

He sped past House Hogg's guards and a few minor lords on his way. He only nodded to Ser Barristan, who was on duty to guard the Crown Prince's quarters. He caught his breath and knocked on Rhaegar's doors.

Aerion heard a frustrated groan from within the chambers. He didn't answer the Prince and simply knocked again, more forcefully this time.

Prince Rhaegar was in his nightshirt when he swung the door open. Aerion admitted himself inside without an acknowledged invitation. The Prince threw his arms in the air in mild disbelief that he would have an intruder in his private quarters.

Aerion looked around the room and was satisfied that the Prince was alone. He found the Prince's eyes and spoke softly but solemnly, "Where are you keeping Lyanna Stark?"


	15. What Are You Fighting For?

**Author's Note:**

Hi all! Wishing everyone an early wonderful New Year! I hope 2021 will treat everyone (A LOT) better than 2020! (I really tried to get this update before the holidays, but unfortunately I couldn't get it done on time)

Again, I do appreciate everyone's incredible patience and support. Your encouragement and following my updates really do keep me going. A huge thanks to you all :)

Without further ado, here is my longest chapter yet. I am excited to hear what you think in the comments!

* * *

**Chapter 15: What are you Fighting for?**

_**The Kingsroad, four days from Castle Darry, Riverlands, 283 AC** _

Aerion's horse pulled eagerly towards the browning patch of grass by the creek and nibbled on the short stems. Hoping to relieve some tension from his agitated stallion, Aerion reached to straighten its mane and rubbed on the side of its neck.

The small patch of grass was soon joined by other horses and their riders. A handful chose to graze, and most chose to drink from the clear but slow flowing-creek. Ser Grant was already off of his horse, and had walked over to collect Aerion's reins.

Aerion smiled at his ever-present captain of the guards and jumped off his horse. He tossed the reins to Ser Grant and headed towards a large fallen log. He sat and watched their men – about thirty riders – climb off their horses and prepare for a small break.

As scouts, they all wore uniform black and dark grey colours to evade enemy detection. Gone were the bright Targaryen reds on Aerion's men and the imperial golden cloaks on Ser Kevan's Lannister guards. Now, one could not tell the soldiers apart without listening for subtle Westerlands or Crownlands accents.

Ser Kevan Lannister sat next to Aerion on the log. He drank hungrily from his newly-filled waterskin and ran a hand through his ruffled blond hair. Aerion nodded to him as he sat down and gave the older knight a moment to catch his breath.

Ser Kevan Lannister's Westerlands army was the last regiment to join the Iron Throne's forces as they cleared out of Sow's Horn. In addition to being a morale boost for the Crown's soldiers, to see the Lannister banners fly with the Crown's standards, word spread around camp of how the Westerlands army was the best-provisioned army of them all.

Lord Tywin had sent fifteen thousand fighting men and twice that number in horses. Their supply carriages took half a day to compile in camp, and had brought much-needed weapons and armour for other Houses who had endured losses.

Aerion was with Prince Rhaegar when Ser Kevan led his forces into Sow's Horn, and the Prince had been relieved that Lord Tywin had kept his word. Lord Tarly then reminded the Prince of how quickly the Westerlands acted – there were less than ten days between Ser Tygett Lannister's return to Casterly Rock and Ser Kevan's arrival at their camp – which fixed a deep frown on Rhaegar as the Prince considered the implications of Lord Tarly's words.

Welcoming a nobleman in a bitter and hostile mood was not a good idea, especially one who had brought over tens of thousands of soldiers for your cause. Aerion had kept his silence when Ser Barristan blocked the exasperated Prince from storming out and pointed out the importance of collegiality.

Lord Hayford also joined in to calm the Prince, and supplied possible justifications of why Lord Tywin withheld battle-ready men for such a long time. Prince Rhaegar eventually hid his annoyance well enough that Ser Barristan allowed the Prince out of the command tent to officially greet Ser Kevan.

After the formalities, the first thing Ser Kevan sought was Brightroar. _Fair enough_ , Aerion had thought. They had negotiated with Ser Tygett about exchanging Brightroar for the Lannister's army, but would not allow Ser Tygett to take the heirloom to Casterly Rock. _No_ , only when Ser Kevan arrives with their promised army would the Crown Prince allow the sword to leave camp.

Ser Tygett had examined the sword thoroughly and was almost in tears that he had the good fortune of helping his House recover Brightroar. He promised to keep the affair low-profile and was urgently on his way home, wanting to relay everything to his brother as soon as possible.

When Ser Kevan arrived as promised, Rhaegar handed him the Valyrian blade in private. Ser Kevan examined the piece quickly and called over a hundred of his most trusted men to escort the piece back to Casterly Rock. Prince Rhaegar had asked the question on Aerion's mind, which is who will be wielding the sword for House Lannister? Ser Kevan didn't answer and didn't look too upset that the wielder will not be him.

Just two days after Ser Kevan's arrival, the entire army marched north under Prince Rhaegar's command. The Prince was obviously torn about how much to trust the Lannister army. They looked loyal enough to obey his orders, but Rhaegar could not be sure if he could assign any real responsibilities to Ser Kevan's men. And so, part of Prince Rhaegar's test of Ser Kevan involved Aerion, and took form in their current scouting mission.

Throughout their march on the Kingsroad, the army sent scouts in all directions, usually led by a landed knight or minor lord. As they passed Harrenhal, however, their army had to be more careful of ambushes from Riverlands armies. Prince Rhaegar decided that more senior commanders had to take over the scouting missions, as scouts ensured the main army's safety.

Thus, Aerion was assigned to ride out with Ser Kevan. Their mission was more dangerous than usual too, as they had to scout the region that was two days ahead of their vanguard, where they could be expecting the enemy forces anytime and anywhere. The Crown Prince patted Aerion on the shoulder before Aerion rode out and whispered quickly by Aerion's ear. _Watch Ser Kevan._ That was all the instructions Aerion had to work with.

Aerion doubted that Ser Kevan would be purposely unhelpful for a scouting mission, no matter his true directives from Lord Tywin. In the spirit of observation, Aerion invited Ser Kevan to make all the important decisions – like where to camp and which area to investigate. He also took care to watch the dynamics within the Lannister retinue, including Ser Kevan's interaction with his two Lannisport cousins.

As expected, neither Ser Kevan nor any of his men acted suspiciously compared to a reasonably prudent group of scouts. Aerion's impression of Ser Kevan had been limited to a handful of interactions in King's Landing, but the five days of the scouting mission had helped the two get to know each other. If Lord Tywin's relationship with the King has not soured, Ser Kevan would have made a capable master of laws or master of ships, in Aerion's opinion.

The older Ser had sound judgment and a wealth of experience after suppressing the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion and numerous robber knights' raids through the years. He is highly respected by his men, and held an odd sense of duty to the realm that Aerion does not see from Lord Tywin. The Ser lived up to his reputation, showing protectiveness of his men and loyalty to Casterly Rock with every decision.

For the scouting mission, their unit had made good progress that they should probably turn back soon. They were on high alert for several days, and ran out of fresh water for a full day before finding the small creek. No one complained or caused panic, but Aerion could tell that his men were ready to head back.

Ser Grant hurried over with Aerion's waterskin, which felt cool and heavy in Aerion's hand. Aerion removed the stopper and sipped, relying on the icy creek water to ease his scratchy throat.

As Aerion drank, Ser Kevan seemed to have fully recovered. "My lord, this creek is the sole water source for at least a day's ride. If Riverlands scouts have been in the area, they must have stopped around here to rest."

Aerion nodded in agreement. He tilted his head back for a bigger gulp of water.

Ser Kevan continued, "I'll instruct our men to search up and down the creek from here. For traces of campfire or horses."

"That's a good idea, Ser."

Ser Kevan stood up with a grunt and made his way to their riders, who sat in small groups on the dirt and conversed quietly. Aerion watched Ser Kevan give instructions and gestured to the two directions of the creek. Six or seven men got up, grabbed their weapons, and set out on their tasks.

Aerion and Ser Kevan sat in silence and were happy to let their men rest while waiting for the reports. Seeing that Aerion did not need anyone by his side, Ser Grant excused himself and joined one of the Stonedance men's circles.

The day was nearing dusk and a light fog settled in. Their part of the thin woods was tranquil, with only faint calls of birds that sounded from time to time. Aerion adjusted to sit on the cool dirt ground, and leaned back on the log for support. He gave up staring at the section of the creek in front of him and closed his eyes to unwind.

Ser Kevan's men returned after half an hour. While nothing noteworthy was found on the west side, the pair of guards to the east found a small pit of extinguished ashes. Aerion sat back up on the log and watched Ser Kevan ask for clarifications.

"Did you see anything else? Boot prints? Gathered firewood?"

"No mi'lord, the ground is all rocks and pebbles, we couldn't see any tracks."

"How fresh was the pit?"

"About half a day… it didn't look disturbed by animals." The guard scratched the back of his head, "Whoever it was didn't make camp, it could be traveling smallfolk or Riverlands riders."

Ser Kevan looked to the horizon and grimaced slightly, probably realizing that they only had another half-hour of sunlight. He turned to Aerion, "My lord, I know we are supposed to head back, but we might capture enemy scouts or messengers if we press east."

Aerion reacted with a frown, "Ser Kevan, we are about to lose daylight and we have little to go on. We should get our men back on the Kingsroad."

"We still have time to cover more ground." Ser Kevan insisted, "It'll be easier to spot campfires at night too – I would feel better knowing we pursued the tracks than if we ignored it."

Aerion narrowed his eyes, "It's getting more and more foggy, Ser, and the woods look thicker further east. If we don't find anything, we will lose another day or two before reporting back. His grace needs to know that we spotted banners from the Vale around here, it's not just Riverlands forces anymore."

Ser Kevan sighed, "A few days is worth risking, Lord Aerion. Anyone this close to our main army is likely enemy spies or messengers. Give me tonight – we'll head back if we find nothing."

Aerion hid a smirk and tried one last time, "We've done our part, Ser. We have been out two days longer than usual and we've covered a lot more ground than what we were assigned to do. Whoever it is, Ser Stokeworth and the next scouting unit will find them. We also don't have enough in numbers to overpower a small division."

Ser Kevan shook his head and passed over Aerion's offer. "I just need tonight, my lord. I have a good feeling about this."

Aerion sighed loudly and kicked at the dirt. "Alright, if you think it's worth it."

Ser Kevan thanked Aerion for his trust and started quickly to their men. Aerion nodded to Ser Grant to follow Ser Kevan's orders and uncorked his waterskin. A quick refill is in order for what will be a long night.

Dusk settled into the night more quickly than Ser Kevan estimated. They found half of a fresh boot print twenty yards from the fire pit and made their way in the boot print's direction. Under the faint moonlight, they spread out in the woods and hoped to catch sparks of campfire or bits of conversation in the silent forest.

Aerion was more and more impressed with Casterly Rock's war destriers. Back in Stonedance, Xorru would organize training sessions in the woods for their horses, which other Houses often neglect. The horses had to be familiar with the dark, Xorru had explained, and must adopt a light and quiet gait that will be useful for nighttime ambushes.

Now, combining the fog and an unfamiliar surrounding, some of the Stonedance horses became restless and were digging into the dirt with more force than necessary. In contrast, Ser Kevan and his men's destriers were calmer and more agile through the trees and bushes. Aerion focused his gaze on a Westerlands rider in front of him and took in the soldier's full armour and accessories.

New leather boots with barely any scratches from the stirrup, a strapped-in dagger at his right calf, boiled leather armour with a polished steel breastplate, an expensive-looking longsword and sheath. The Westerlands soldier had everything that another Crownlands soldier would have, except in better conditions. _Lord Tywin probably still holds a formidable army, aside from what he sent with Ser Kevan._

As they ventured further, Ser Kevan proved to be right about spotting campfires in the dark. They found and followed a beaten trail for a mile and saw flickering flames in the distance. Everyone dismounted and slowed their approach towards the glowing light.

Aerion could count four soldiers who were roasting their supper in a small clearing. Their horses were tied to a tree nearby and their weapons scattered carelessly around the campfire. Ser Kevan motioned for their men to form a circle around the clearing before spooking the enemy soldiers.

It was apparent that they were enemy soldiers. The men were also in grey but wore uniform padded armour. Seeing no sigils anywhere on their person or weapons, Aerion was a little curious to find out their origins.

A search of their belongings followed the smooth capture. The enemy soldiers looked stunned to be facing a circle of drawn swords in a manner of seconds. They surrendered their weapons without a word and held out their hands to be bound.

"Who is your lord?" Ser Grant grabbed one of the soldiers' collar and grunted harshly.

The soldier, who looked more like a boy than a man, closed his eyes at the rough treatment. Ser Grant gave him another shake before the boy stammered out, "Bra-Bracken, mi'lord."

Ser Kevan dug through a small pouch that fell from one of the soldier's coats. "Sealed letters from House Arryn!" He broke the wax seal on the first letter and checked the address, "To House Bracken, the boy is not lying."

Ser Kevan held the letters by the campfire and traced over the falcon sigil of House Arryn with his thumb, though broken by his prying.

"You were right about following the trail, Ser. These will be valuable for our planning." Aerion smiled.

Ser Kevan laughed, "Thank you, my lord." He called for their men to search the vicinity and prepare to take the captured horses and messengers.

As scouts, they usually had the privilege to check any confidential letters that they seized. They had the discretion of only reporting what they thought was important back to camp. Ser Kevan folded the three letters neatly and stored them in his coat, not bothering to check their content.

They found the Kingsroad the next midday and made their way south. The prisoners were each bound to their horses, which were led by Stonedance guards. Ser Kevan was more relaxed than his usual demeanor, and told stories of his youthful adventures in the Riverlands to Aerion.

The return trip only took two days. Ser Oswell Whent, who commanded the camp patrols, greeted Aerion's party when they arrived. Ser Kevan pushed the three envelopes and letters into Aerion's hands and volunteered to hand over their prisoners instead of reporting to the Crown Prince. Letter in hand, Aerion promised to let the Prince know that the letters were his find.

In a hearty laugh, Ser Kevan assured Aerion that he didn't care for taking the credit. He had a wide smile and led his men away.

Rheagar's travel tent was only a size bigger than common soldiers' shared tents. Unlike Ser Boros Blount and Lord Tyrell's extravagant setups, the Prince maintained a reputation for modesty and approachability.

Aerion watched a soldier in a dark travel cloak exit the Prince's tent just as he approached. Instead of walking past Aerion, the man turned to his immediate left towards a group of horses by a pole. From the corner of Aerion's eyes, the soldier climbed on his horse and kicked for the horse to start.

Ser Barristan held open the tent drapes for Aerion to walk in. The tent was warm and smelled of delicious grilled fish and loaves. Prince Rhaegar sat behind his chair and was pouring over some letters. His tray of lunch was pushed off to a corner and was untouched.

Cheeses and fruits were laid out on another plate. Aerion's stomach rumbled quietly the longer he stared at the meal. He slid the letters in front of the seated Prince and began his report, "Your grace, we just got back from further north. We sighted House Royce's pikemen legion about three days west of Castle Darry, and seized these letter from House Bracken's messengers. No other armies along the Kingsroad until after Castle Darry, I think."

The Prince was still finishing his letter but nodded to acknowledge the report. "How big was House Royce's legion?"

"About two thousand, maybe more." Aerion saw empty glasses and a pitcher by a small table. He poured himself a drink and added, "We wouldn't have found the messengers if not for Ser Kevan. He has a good eye for scouting and took the mission more seriously than I expected."

Rhaegar looked up with interest, turning his brown feather quill between his fingers. "Oh? Tell me about Ser Kevan, can we trust him?"

Aerion considered for some seconds, "I can tell you what I saw. But first, where are you sending Ser Brune? Was it about Lyanna Stark?" Aerion raised an eyebrow to his seated Prince.

Rhaegar probably wanted to correct him and remind him that it should be _Lyanna Targaryen_. But he sat further back and bit on his lip.

"Come on, Rhaegar. I practically ran into Ser Brune, and I know you sent him south to relocate Lyanna."

Rhaegar put down his quill, pushed his finished letter away, and stared plainly at Aerion.

"Prince Oberyn was not bluffing, the Martells are combing every city and village for her. At least tell me that she's in the Reach."

Rhaegar sighed heavily and crossed his arms, "Of course I know that Dorne is not completely safe for her, but it's all I can do right now. Lya is… unfit to travel."

"What does that even mean?" Aerion asked incredulously. "Where is she?"

The Prince held his gaze for a minute and shifted in his seat. "There is a secluded tower, just below the Prince's Pass. I passed it with Lya when we first entered Dorne." The Prince allowed, "I've bid Ser Brune and Lord Commander Hightower to move her there."

"A deserted tower along the busiest passages into Dorne." Aerion frowned, "That doesn't sound hidden or remotely fortified to me."

"I assure you that it is hidden enough. It's by the passage so I can move her into the Reach… when she's ready." The Prince rubbed his forehead, "The Tower of Joy. We named it together. It could have been a cozy homestead if we had time to make of it."

"What does _**ready**_ even _**mean**_?!" Aerion shook his head, "Can you drop the play on words? We are at war, both in Dorne and here, Rhaegar."

Rhaegar clasped his hands on his desk. He took in Aerion's hardening glare and relented, "Lya is with child, Aerion. She feels nauseous night after day and needs to rest in bed. I can't ask her to move far in her condition!" The Prince sighed sadly.

 _Seven Hells_. Aerion clenched his fists and released them slowly. They are already expecting a child, at the worst possible time. Rhaegar claims to care for Lyanna Stark and claims that her child will be crucial to the Targaryen dynasty, yet he would leave the helpless young mother and child in a hostile land, all alone.

A new babe should be a joyous announcement, but Aerion's first reaction is dread. Dread and countless thoughts of how they could divert more men to protect Rhaegar's _**second family**_. Men taken away from their upcoming battle, who may not even arrive in time to make a difference.

"The Martells won't find them. I've ordered the Lord Commander and Ser Arthur Dayne to execute any search party that goes near the place." The Prince continued in a quiet voice. He sounded like he was convincing himself more than convincing Aerion.

When Aerion still didn't respond, Rhaegar sighed. "It will only be a few moons until Lya and the babe are both strong enough to travel. I can then arrange Hightower to take her in, or they can sail up to the Crownlands from Starfall."

Aerion was aware that he probably looked too angry and skeptical to maintain social courtesy. He softened his expression and kept his voice even, "It sounds like you have everything planned, your grace."

Rhaegar's lowered his eyes to the table and gave a weak smile, "I am trying all I can, _really_. Ser Brune rides back and forth every two weeks to report Lya's condition. When our victory is clear, I will go personally to retrieve her to King's Landing. I will deal with Elia then too, you needn't worry."

Aerion nodded and changed the subject. It is beyond him to interfere with the Prince's private life, and if the past year was anything to go on, his pleads made little difference anyway. "Ser Kevan did not do anything suspicious on our trip. He was thorough and did not undermine any of our plans. I would say Lord Tywin didn't leave special instructions other than fighting for us."

Rhaegar scratched his nose, "Alright, I trust your judgment. I do hope that I'm over-complicating Tywin's intentions. Perhaps he is genuinely content with Brightroar back in his hands."

"I would trust Ser Kevan to fight honourably for the Iron Throne, but I wouldn't send the Westerlands army out on its own." Aerion cautioned, "Not until they've lost men for us, at least."

Rhaegar agreed. "If you are right about how there are no armies south of Castle Darry, then the rebels must be congregating somewhere along the Red Fork. I'll put Randyll Tarly's forces beside the Lannister regiment when we go into battle, to keep them in check."

"Ser Kevan is not one to waste good men; he is protective of them. When it comes to a battle, I trust he will try to win and to minimize his losses as best as he can."

Rhaegar ripped out one of House Arryn's letters and skimmed the short piece. He set it on the desk for Aerion and Ser Barristan. "This is Jon Arryn's hand. He bid House Bracken join the main army north of the Trident. It seems like they've already picked the battlefield for us."

"The Trident is not ideal for us, your grace. Our side will have to cross the ford." Ser Barristan said sharply. "We will have heavy losses before we even meet them."

Aerion watched Rhaegar read a second letter and laid it down for them to see. The Prince reached for his glass and took a long sip. Aerion glanced down at the second letter, it was also Lord Arryn's hand, and was confirming House Bracken's numbers.

"Not ideal, no." The Prince spoke thoughtfully, "But we have been on the defence for too long. We need to crush their cause."

The Prince looked up and found Ser Barristan and Aerion's eyes, "Robert Baratheon is claiming the Iron Throne as a descendant of Princess Rhaelle. We need to mount his head on pike to remind the rebels that their cause utterly absurd."

Robert Baratheon is becoming the symbol of the rebellion, as an alternative to the corrupt Targaryen dynasty who also happens to have high Valyrian blood. Still, the true grievers are the Starks and Arryns. Aerion would have prioritized capturing Jon Arryn to force Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon's hand, since the younger lords love the Lord of the Eyrie more than their own fathers.

"I'll send out scouts to confirm that all three Lord Paramounts are at the Trident." The Prince continued, "The Baratheon scum will face his end there – for the sake of the rebellion and for Lya's honour."

If the smallfolk sing from Robert Baratheon's perspective, he would have died fighting for the honour of his betrothed and for his unwavering loyalty to his best friend and mentor. Aerion thought while his stomach rumbled again, protesting the delay for lunch.

"What do you think, Aerion?"

Aerion looked back to the Prince, "The Trident is geographically disadvantageous, your grace. We need to make the alliance question whether their cause is worth the blood spilled. That could be at the Trident or elsewhere."

"I agree, we need to cripple their armies." The Prince nodded to himself. "We haven't gotten an opportunity like this, an opportunity to sweep their entire army. Would you take the Trident or wait longer?"

The Crown Prince was looking for a specific answer, from the strength of his voice when he talked about killing Lyanna Stark's former betrothed. "We could make the Trident work, if we deploy our armies carefully. We should expect big losses, though, as Ser Barristan said." Aerion allowed.

"I think we can make it work too." Rhaegar replied swiftly, "If the Trident is the soonest site to gather all three lords, then that's where we will go. We shouldn't prolong the rebellion any longer, for the sake of restoring peace to the realm."

Ser Barristan had a neutral expression that betrayed no worry or displeasure. Seeing that his original task to report was long finished, Aerion spoke up, "If there is nothing else, I should return to my camp and check on my men."

Rhaegar nodded, "Go on. Thank you for agreeing to scout with Ser Kevan. You've brought ease to my mind about the Lannisters."

Aerion smiled at his cousin and dipped his head. He turned quickly on his heels and left the tent. Outside, Ser Grant stood by where Ser Brune's horse was kept and walked up to greet Aerion halfway.

"Let's head back. And where is the cook's camp? I'm famished!"

Ser Grant bit back a chuckle at Aerion's annoyed groan and led his lord in a new direction deeper into camp.

* * *

_**The Trident, Riverlands, 283 AC** _

Aerion watched Ser Barristan and Lord Randyll Tarly's reactions when their next scouting unit confirmed that Hoster Tully was also at the Trident. _A fourth Lord Paramount._ After Ser Stokeworth's report, they had little reason to _**avoid**_ the Trident, whatever the risk of casualties.

Ser Barristan pinched his lips for a moment but held his silence. He never shifted from his post from behind Prince Rhaegar, and Aerion could not read what he was thinking. Lord Tarly's deep frown was much more animated. The Lord of Horn Hill explained tirelessly to the Prince that the Crown would be better off fighting each rebel ally separately, and how patience will secure their side's victory.

But Rhaegar had made up his mind. He argued back calmly, pointing out how the realm had already suffered enough with the rebellion. He also proposed an impressive battle plan, one that even Aerion was ready to support, and reminded the war council how the rebel army will be scattered after their success at the Trident.

After a full day of deliberating, the opposed nobles eventually gave in to the Prince's wishes. Lord Tarly insisted on several changes to the battle formation, and Lord Allyrion wanted to personally lead a hundred guards to verify Ser Stokeworth's findings. Prince Rhaegar happily agreed to both and the war council moved onto finer details of the battle strategy.

Prince Oberyn was slumped against the cushions of his chair and watched the meeting with mild interest. Lord Mace Tyrell was happy to let his bannermen command the Reach's position, and drank more wine than anyone else at the table. Ser Kevan Lannister spoke up from time to time, adjusting their estimates and identifying gaps in their plans. Rhaegar accepted almost all of Ser Kevan's suggestions and had been showing warmer smiles to the Westerlands knight than when he first arrived.

It took the army a little over a week to arrive at the southern shores of the Trident. Young soldiers and lordlings who have yet to earn a name for themselves chattered the whole way in excitement, while seasoned soldiers and peasant levies stayed quiet in the apprehension of the great battle. The battle that was destined to be the battle of a lifetime; more than ninety thousand men gathered on the opposite shores of the ford, in a battle that will settle the course of Westerosi history.

Aerion clutched the reins of his destrier as he took in the mixed standards of the rebels flapping in the wind, greys of Starks, yellows of Baratheons, sky blue for the Vale, and a darker blue and red for the Tullys. Aerion's side supplied another three Kingdoms of noble banners and the royal Targaryen three-headed dragon.

 _An impressive sight altogether._ Aerion recounted Maester Kelhmon's lessons but could not remember the last time when all seven Kingdoms met on the battlefield, not fighting against a common enemy, but against each other. When the answer didn't come to mind, Aerion looked up to the cloudless sky to clear his head before the charge.

The day was warm and peaceful, like a kiss of summer with a sweet scent of flowers. Peaceful, until the war trumpets beckon Stranger himself to collect the poor souls of fine fighting men, regardless of what blazon they used to bear. Scenes from the battle outside Felwood flashed before Aerion, of how the serenity will be swiftly shattered by the horrors of war.

The currents of the Trident ran fast and slow depending on the varied depth of the ford at different places. The rebels have certainly planted iron spikes and caltrops under the water, which the frontline cavalry must push through, and even use their bodies and fallen horses to build a bridge of flesh for the infantry behind them.

Aerion took another deep breath of fresh air before putting on his helmet. He shouldn't get distracted anymore. His focus is ahead of him, against the Vale's army on the right-side field. They estimated that Lord Arryn led just over ten thousand soldiers, including four thousand cavalry. Prince Rhaegar had matched the Dornish legion, which had two thousand cavalry and other spearmen and archers to the Vale. Aerion's mix of Crownlands and Stormlands forces were to aid the Dornish charge, as Aerion led another two thousand crossbow cavalry.

The centerfield was led by Prince Rhaegar and contained the bulk of the Crownlands and the Reach's soldiers, totalling over thirty thousand. They faced the rebel's central arrays, which merged House Stark and House Baratheon's banners. The rebels also had a smaller left-side field, with about eight thousand Riverlands fighters. The Prince in turn placed Ser Kevan's cavalry and swordsmen across from the Riverlands banners, with three thousand House Tarly infantry to support their rear.

After that, each side also had a small reserve for urgent changes in battle. For the Crown, Lord Mace Tyrell commanded a thousand men from a small hill, and it looked like Lord Hoster Tully held a couple of hundred men behind the centerfield arrays for the allied rebels.

The Crown Prince will signal the warhorn when he is ready; they had planned to make the first move, and the rebels expected them to charge first, too. Their best cavalry surrounded the Prince and his retinue in a dense assembly of horsemen – all chosen from the Crownlands and the Reach. These troops will lead the central charge, and secure a footing for the rest of the swordsmen, pikemen, and archers to cross the ford.

Aerion could not make out Rhaegar and his all-black destrier from such a distance, but he could see hints of the two Kingsguards' white cloaks. There was still some shuffling from the central array, but soldiers' yells and voices were starting to die down.

"Crossbow, make ready!" Aerion called to his guards and bannermen among the bustle. Lord Rambton and Ser Edgerton repeated his order behind him. The plan was for Prince Oberyn to advance with his cavalry, while Aerion's forces shot down the first few rows of enemy lancers.

Aerion took over his own crossbow from Terrence Celtigar, who hugged two sets to his chest. It was a heavy wooden thing, and Aerion steadied it in his lap.

"Visor down when we change weapons," Aerion reminded his squire.

"Yes, my lord." Terrence's voice didn't shake. He gripped tightly on his crossbow that the tips of his fingers were white, but that was the only indication of the boy's unease.

"Don't do anything foolish." They had talked about this. Showing off in the heat of battle, charging into certain defeat are all ways of putting oneself at unnecessary risk. For Terrance, losing his life so young is never worth the prospect of glory.

"I won't, my lord." Terrence had been with him for almost two years. The boy had grown much taller, especially since they've arrived at Sow's Horn. If it were up to Aerion, Terrence probably needed smaller scale combats to practice before fighting in something as deadly as the Trident.

Aerion smiled to his squire in encouragement before turning back to the battlefield. Some men around him were looking to the sky in quiet prayer. Prince Oberyn was just a hundred yards from him, flanked by a whitecloak and a personal guard. Instead of being with Prince Rhaegar, Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard had been positioned to protect Oberyn. Aerion supposed it was Rhaegar's idea to have the older Martell Prince boost morale on the right side.

The warhorn finally blew. _Haroooooooooo_ , its voice was long and low but sprung tens of thousands of fighters into action. The leading arrays bellowed to its call, "FORWARD! CHARGE!" a thousand voices yelled.

From the corner of Aerion's eyes, Rhaegar's mass of heavy cavalry trotted into the shallow waters, forming a giant steel fist that lunged at the enemy. Aerion couldn't watch for long, for his men's first round of arrows had already been fired.

A row of House Arryn's horsemen held up their shields to block the crossbow arrows. A handful of unlucky soldiers closer to the shore took a shot to their body or their horse, which caused some panic with the commanding House Corbray knight and retinue.

"CHARGE!" Prince Oberyn's voice filled the right-side field. The Dornishmen wore lighter armour that allowed more agility on horseback, which also meant they were more vulnerable to injury.

"FIRE!" Aerion yelled his command. Two thousand Stonedance soldiers replied with a vast flight of arrows, arched upwards to land only ahead of the charging Dornishmen. On the opposite shore, men and horses screamed and stumbled. More soldiers went down, and a strip of a few meters was cleared for Prince Oberyn to make it ashore.

"AGAIN!" Aerion's throat scratched from his sudden raise of voice. His men had followed their second round in a manner of seconds, and Aerion's order sped up their fourth round. Only a hundred horsemen had secured a footing on the rough sands of the opposite shore.

Aerion's heart pounded in his chest in time to the rumble of the war drums. The enemy was determined to keep the fighting in the water, where the Crown's soldiers tripped over each other and all the newly added bodies and weapons that littered the ford. His crossbowmen added another two rounds of arrows, but the enemy fighters within range all held bronze shields that easily deflected the weakened arrows.

"MOVE UP!" Aerion stirred his horse to fill the empty space that Prince Oberyn's cavalry had left. "MOVE UP!" More of his soldiers heard him this time, without the hissing of loosened arrows.

 _Haaaaroooooooooooooo. Da – Da – DAAAAAA._ This time, the trumpets of the Reach and of Dorne blew vengeance. _Winterfell!_ Soliders' replies echoed the field. _Riverrun!_

" **HOLD!** " A voice as penetrating and booming as that could only be from Robert Baratheon. It rang in Aerion's helm and astonishingly rose above all the battle cries and pained screaming of soldiers. Aerion couldn't help but avert his gaze to centerfield, where the Crown Prince's forces engaged with the Storm Lord.

The Crown Prince's heavy cavalry faced the same problem as the right wing, except that the Stormlands soldiers appeared even more resolute to keep their ground. Knights and heavily armoured horsemen crowded the northern shores almost shoulder to shoulder, not allowing a single rider to climb ashore.

Back on the right wing, a hundred yards closer to their target meant that Aerion's arrows aimed better. A drawback, however, was that their division was now within the range of enemy archers. _At least they took some pressure away from Prince Oberyn._

As arrows took flight in rounds around him, Aerion slowed down and focused his aim at someone who resembled Lyn Corbray, the second son of the Lord of Heart's Home. The young knight was waving about with his sword to direct his soldiers, so Aerion waited for him to stand still. _He could have made five other shots if he didn't wait for this one_. He steadied his hands and released the arrow confidently.

Ser Lyn's guard reacted too fast. The soldier pushed his liege off-aim and took Aerion's arrow at his neck. Aerion watched the man fall limply from his horse, which made Ser Lyn's other guards form a tight circle around him.

Once a target is spooked, it will be hard to aim at them again. Aerion glanced at Ser Grant and Terrence's quivers, and saw that they were almost out, only enough three or four more rounds.

"Prepare for swords!" He turned back and yelled at the soldiers. The crossbowmen who had finished dropped their crossbows and reached for their longswords.

Two more flights of arrows launched. Aerion threw his crossbow on the ground after that and unsheathed his sword. His shield was resting on his lap, so he grabbed the grip and set it upright.

"Swords ready!" Aerion heard clinks of steel that accompanied unsheathing behind him. He pulled down his visor and was proud to see that Terrence already had his down. He waited for two more breaths and pointed his sword at a weak point in Prince Oberyn's charge, "FORWARD!"

The sound of hoofbeats and iron boots splashing into the shallow water surrounded him. Enemy arrows rained down as some of their men and horses got stuck in the mud. Aerion cursed under his breath when he got closer to the fighting – Prince Oberyn already lost a few hundred men on the shallow shores, and still, they have only pushed a thin strip ashore.

He blinked and a Valeman was suddenly in front of him, slamming their shield at his sword hand. Aerion pulled the reins of his horse and turned the helmed destrier at the knight, slamming the weight at the man's stomach. The knight bent down and groaned, making his helm fall half an inch to expose his neck. Aerion urged his horse closer and brought down his sword with enough force to break the neck. The knight never sat up again. Blood sloshed out from his wound as he landed face down in the water.

The Stonedance cavalry joined the battle quicker than the rebel commander could react. Within a few minutes, they have helped the Dornish legion advance four or five yards on one side. There was heavy push-back from the rebels, and Aerion saw more men go down by House Arryn's arrows.

The rebels formed a wall to block their advancement. Armoured men plugged in gaps with their bodies, horses and shields. Spears and swords jabbed out to ward off charges, but Aerion had no choice but push on with his men.

More and more riders in Targaryen colours joined him on the northern shore, with some orange Martell colours mixed in. Aerion hoped that a unified charge at the human wall would be effective, given the sheer number and weight of their destriers.

"With me! WITH ME!" He shouted through the moans and screams of the men around him. A good fifty soldiers around him turned their horses in position at the call. He picked a random swordsman in the wall and smashed his horse through the ranks of armoured men, slashing left and right to clear a gap. Aerion's horse knocked the first swordsman to the ground, and Aerion cut down a spearman to his right.

The other soldiers joined Aerion, widening his circle and penetrating the Vale's defence at different points. Aerion slashed down again and again, now unaware of the weight of his longsword and tired arms. All he sees is a thick wave of enemy soldiers, standing between him and Lord Jon Arryn who was at the back of their formation.

Aerion heard Lord Rambton holler obscenities somewhere behind him. He smiled to himself and exchanged a few strikes with a horseman. His opponent was slower than him and he buried his sword deep inside the rider's stomach.

With a determined pull, his sword slid out easily, looking like it had been immersed in blood. The fallen soldier's companion pulled up on his horse and screamed, his eyes glaring at Aerion with hatred. Aerion cocked his head to the side and considered whether he should attack first. The horseman had effectively surrendered his life, by approaching Aerion without a helm.

Aerion ducked the horseman's slash and heard a loud swoosh of the steel cutting in the air. He raised his sword to block the downward swing of his enemy's second blow, and grit his teeth at the hefty impact. _No helm because opponents never get close enough, it looks like._ Aerion wheeled around his opponent on his horse and ducked several other slashes to his chest and neck.

He then had an idea and bent low that his head rested on his horse's neck. He aimed at the soldier's calf and carved deep into the flesh. His opponent was only protected above the knee with heavy armour.

"ARRRGGH!" Aerion was rewarded with a painful groan from the horseman. The enemy soldier had widened eyes and shook violently with fury. Blood stained through his tunic and was dripping off from his boots.

Before the horseman regained his senses, Aerion bashed his steel-rimmed shield against the horseman's head. The soldier's eyes rolled back as blood oozed out from his wound. He slumped to his side and fell to the ground.

Aerion had a chance to catch his breath and survey the area around him. Their cavalry charge was now firmly upon the northern shores and had pushed a comfortable distance between the Vale's frontlines and the water. They've also left a thick layer of bodies from the middle of the ford to where they stood.

Stonedance banners and Martell banners flew together in the wind, for the separate armies had blended into one. An enemy foot soldier in Corbray colours dove for his horse when he wasn't looking. Aerion pulled forcefully on the reins to get his destrier to retreat.

The horse huffed and shook its head but allowed a few steps back. When the soldier tried again to bury his dagger into his mount's guts, Aerion was ready. His longsword easily poked through the soldier's padded tunic and lodged in the man's heart. With a practiced twist, Aerion freed his weapon and allowed the soldier's lifeless body to slip down.

Arrows descended on the fighting men and fell on Arryns and Martells alike, rattling off armour or finding flesh. A Corbray-cloaked soldier lodged their axe through the mail and leather of a Martell spearman not far from Aerion, and Aerion watched the spearman's face lose all colour as the axe hacked his lungs.

The Corbray soldier pulled hard to free his axe. His back was protected by thin armour but was exposed. Aerion's blade made a hideous scraping sound as he punctured the soldier's armour from behind. The soldier knelt forward, and Aerion rammed his sword through their chest.

Riderless stallions trampled over dead and wounded men. More arrows fell from the sky like hail, and Aerion only barely brought his shield over his head. Smallfolk and nobles alike swore and begged for mercy. The battlefield rang with the wretched sound of death, but the gods have turned a blind eye to the suffering. When the arrow volley was done, Aerion plucked two shafts sticking out of his round shield and threw them at the ground.

It was a bloody and awful brawl, where men threw their weight in their wrestle and used their blood-covered hands to choke the enemy. Those who lost their weapons used whatever was in reach, arrow heads, broken spear points, and even the spikes of shields. Every man fought for themselves, and all learned deference was forgotten.

Aerion watched an Arryn soldier lift a heavy rock over his head and smashed it at a wounded Stonedance guard. The Arryn soldier kept smashing, even after his downed opponent was missing half of his skull and brains. Another Martell spearman held a spear in each hand and lifted an impaled enemy off the ground. The dying man sobbed in pain, but that didn't stop his blood from rushing along the spears and staining the Dornishman's mailed glove.

Aerion kicked his horse forward and ran over the Valeman holding his rock. His horse was somehow still alive, and easily flipped the kneeling soldier on his back. The dazed Arryn soldier tried to push himself back up, but Aerion's blade opened his throat before he made it very far.

There was no shortage of enemies to fight; only the last of both sides' cavalry remained, so fresh infantry from both camps finally met on the northern shores. New standards of House Rykker, Grandison, Yronwood, and Wyl fluttered with every leap and trot of their bearer and mount.

Aerion had never smelled such a strong stench of blood, strong enough to sting his eyes and bring out his tears. He mechanically slashed and hacked at any enemy colours around him, consumed by the sole thought of ending the battle as quickly as he can. Battle lust and dread found an odd balance within him, and he lost track of time in killing and _more killing_.

A flag of pure white flashed in Aerion's vision. His thoughts jumped to a flag of truce, but he quickly realized that the flag was worn on someone. It was also not white anymore, as mud, charcoal, and blood stained the fabric.

Prince Lewyn was hugging his right arm and only had a shield on his left hand. His bright armour made him a key target, and a group led by the Corbray knight who dodged Aerion's arrow was closing in on him. The Kingsguard's armour on his right arm was dented to a ghastly curve, which explains why Prince Lewyn's sword arm swung uselessly to the side.

 _This is how he will lose his horse._ Aerion crashed into the circle around the injured Kingsguard and made two of the Corbray guards to careen onto the floor. With a mighty roar, a third guard slid his sword into the guts of Aerion's destrier and sheared across its belly. Aerion jumped off as the warm smell of bloodied guts filled his nose. Before his destrier fell, he pulled the nearest Corbray soldier over and slit their throat.

The circle widened to admit Aerion. Not counting the fallen guard, it was six Valeman against two. Once the Valeman had a chance to examine the intruder up and down, the soldiers beamed with excitement to have found a second high-profile target.

Ser Lyn Corbray lifted his visor for a better look and shrieked, "KILL HIM! Lands and knighthood to his killer!" He didn't wait any longer and lunged at Aerion. Aerion stepped back and squeezed back-to-back against Prince Lewyn.

Ser Lyn groaned loudly in frustration when his strike didn't land on Aerion. While the knight recovered, Aerion turned to an approaching guard and drove his sword through the chainmail at their neck, piercing both the armour and artery. Aerion heard the clang of metal behind him, from Prince Lewyn defending them both with his shield.

To take pressure off the injured knight, Aerion turned to the next soldier and ducked from an approaching blade. When it was Aerion's turn to strike, he cut deep and wide at the guard's face, lodging half an inch of his sword in his opponent's forehead.

Ser Lyn grew impatient and whirled at him. Aerion matched him blow for blow and tried to find a weak point. He smashed his worn shield at Ser Lyn's chest, but it only made him stumble half a step. Before Ser Lyn could retaliate, Aerion aimed lower and bashed at the man's knee. The armour held but caved in, and the knight's muscle and bone surely felt the impact.

Ser Lyn jabbed his sword forward with a gurgled cry, but his one good knee could not hold the weight of his person and armour. He went down on one knee and instinctively clutched his injury. Aerion grabbed the opportunity and again and made use of his shield. He smashed down at Ser Lyn's helm and knocked the horned helm off. Another blow to the Valeman's temple made Ser Lyn bleed from his nose and slowly close his eyes for the last time.

To Aerion's surprise, Prince Lewyn still managed to kill one of the guards with just his shield. The spikes on the Kingsguard's shield found the soldier's eyes and poked right through the back of his socket. Only two Corbray guards remained and they were backing off from the corpses of their lord and companions. With one long stride, Aerion met the guard facing him and cut the man down. The soldier was half in shock and had barely noticed the oncoming blade.

The last Corbray guard let out a small cry and ran. Instead of pursuing him, Aerion returned to Prince Lewyn's side and made sure that no one was advancing on them. Most of the fighting had moved on from where they were anyway, and they were surrounded by men in Martell and Stonedance colours.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Aerion wished he could take off his helmet and wipe the sweat that coated his forehead and nose. His fingers found the seams and straps around Lewyn's right shoulder and shook off the damaged armour from the Prince's arm. Aerion couldn't see the flesh under Lewyn's sleeve but noticed that the elbow was twisted at a strange angle. "Is it broken?"

Prince Lewyn was panting in his helm, "Take - take off my helm."

Aerion hadn't heard arrows aiming at them for a while, so he obliged. The Prince's head was covered in sweat, and he looked too pale for Aerion's liking.

"Take this," Aerion grabbed a discarded Stonedance shield that was still in good condition and pushed it at Prince Lewyn, "And go back to the southern shore. Command the infantry with Lord Allyrion."

Prince Lewyn started to shake his head. He looked past Aerion's shoulder and Aerion knew that he was looking for Oberyn.

"You are a dead man here!" Aerion forcibly turned Prince Lewyn towards the ford, "You can help Oberyn just the same from the infantry."

The Kingsguard gritted his teeth from either his pain or frustration, and stubbornly scanned the battlefield once more but could not see his nephew. He gave in to Aerion's advice and accepted the proffered shield.

Aerion watched the older Prince of Dorne make his way towards their camp. He let out a long breath and embarked on finding himself a new horse.

" **RHAEGAR!** " A hundred heads turned to the booming voice. Aerion found a horse that wore less chainmail than he would have wanted but looked unharmed. He climbed on the saddle for a better view.

At centerfield, both sides' cavalry had dwindled to a tenth or less of the initial masses. The Crown's forces have pushed about twenty yards ashore and both sides are reinforcing their frontlines with infantry. Aerion could not find the Crown Prince, though he did spot a tall whitecloak who was most likely Ser Barristan Selmy.

Under the most prominent yellow Baratheon banner was unmistakeably Robert Baratheon. With fewer soldiers and horses obstructing his view, Aerion could make out the giant steel antlers flowing from the Storm Lord's helmet. " **RHAEGAR!** " The voice growled again.

Aerion rejoined the battle on the right-side field. The unyielding human wall was long gone and soldiers slashed and spun about to hold their ground. House Rykker's infantry was well-trained, and helped sweep the last of House Corbray's legion. Their frontlines were now engaging with the black iron studs blazon of House Royce – after House Royce, there was only two thousand infantry guarding the Warden of the East.

Aerion rode hard to batter the enemy spearmen line. His sword rose and fell, cutting into the enemy ranks and claiming its victims. Stonedance men surrounded him, and it warmed his heart to see that he still had dozens of men on horseback. There were also fewer Stonedance banners and shields littered on the battlefield than other colours, and Aerion prayed that it meant more survivors for his banners.

He ploughed through another group of infantry and narrowly avoided a halberd crashing down on him. He hadn't fought against a halberd for quite a while and his mind raced about how to get closer to his opponent with such long battle axe between them. The wielder, who donned the Royce brown colours, cursed and slashed his blade with impressive precision.

With a sharp kick at his new horse's loins, Aerion retreated and saved his strength. The knight of the Vale seemed determined to get him, so the two danced back and forth, mindful to avoid the dead and wounded lying by their feet.

Aerion watched his opponent's strikes slow down. It was a heavy piece to swing for long, and he could almost hear the knight's laboured breathing through his helm. Aerion made a false jab to the fighter's shoulder and made him duck down in response. His sword actually latched at a gap in his opponent's armour at the hip and stabbed hard.

The knight snarled and rose quickly to his feet. Aerion retreated again to the approaching axe, but he was too close to be out of range. The sharpened tip of the weapon, and thank the Seven not the main axe, jabbed at Aerion's shoulder and pierced through his armour.

Pain immediately shot up his arm. He could feel a deep cut on his upper arm but he still had a tight grip on his weapon. Aerion retreated further and took a shaky breath, he could feel his blood making his sleeve heavy inside his armour.

On the knight's next strike, Aerion used his shield to deflect the blow and threw the halberd backwards. He borrowed the momentum and thrusted at his opponent's lower chin. The castle-forged sword from Prince Aerion's time slid through the chainmail with little resistance, and buried deep into the knight's throat.

" **AARRRHHH!** " Robert Baratheon's voice boomed above the chaos. Aerion almost didn't want to look over again, as the voice distracted him more than anything.

When he did, his pounding heart almost jumped out of his chest. _**The Others Take Him**_ _._ Aerion sighted Lord Rambton a few paces away, finishing off a pikeman. He was the only one, for Ser Grant and his landed knights were all scattered.

"Rambton! Gather the men!" There was no time, but he couldn't go alone. Going alone would be futile, _just like what Rhaegar is doing_.

Against all odds, Lord Rambton heard the distressed call of his liege. He reacted quickly and yelled loud enough to grab the attention of almost twenty Stonedance horseman around him.

"With me!" Aerion called in all directions.

Aerion locked eyes with Lord Rambton. Riders had followed behind his bannermen, and Aerion could count at least a few dozen. "Whatever happens, _**charge**_."

Lord Rambton nodded to the instructions and Aerion drove his destrier forward without another word. The quickest way to get to centerfield is not to cut across the northern shores of the melee battle, but to go around through the ford.

Aerion kicked his destrier harder to speed the mount into a gallop, but stepping over weapons and bodies made the horse nervous, as it almost swung Aerion from his saddle. _**Damn Rhaegar, damn him.**_ He could have not clashed head-on with Robert _fucking_ Baratheon. He could have chosen his battles wisely. He could have set aside his ego, just this once.

 _ **Damn him.**_ If something happens to the Prince on this godforsaken ford, they might as well hand over the Seven Kingdoms to the rebels.

Watching the Crown Prince and just three of his knights engulfed by a dense pack of bright yellow cloaks had taken all the air from his lungs. Why was the Prince so far ahead in the first place? The Stormlands frontlines were at least ten yards behind, yet the Prince ventured deep into enemy ranks.

Aerion pulled a sharp turn to avoid a sword that came crashing down on him, from a wounded soldier who happened to stand up as the Stonedance retinue rode past. Aerion recovered his direction and rode on, not sparing another look that would slow him down. He heard a chilling scream a few seconds later, which could only be from one of his horsemen cutting down his assailant.

Aerion could see Prince Rhaegar exchanging blows with Robert Baratheon. The men were both on horseback, with their aggression heightened by savagery and malice. They were getting closer, and only a hundred more yards separated Aerion and the extraordinary clash.

If there was a last shred of hope that it wasn't Rhaegar in the duel, it dissipated when Aerion was close enough to make out the silver wings at the side of the Targaryen warrior's helm. The shoulder guards were also the exact pair gifted to the Crown Prince by King Aerys II, after the tourney in honour of Visery's birth. _**Where are his Kingsguards?**_

Robert Baratheon's warhammer swung fast and wild, leaving almost no space for Rhaegar to strike back. The Prince leaned in to slash at his opponent's wrist, and everything happened so quickly. Three pounding thumps were each louder than the last, applying enough force for sparks to fly.

Aerion gaped stupidly inside his helm. The sound of his own heartbeat thrashed in his ears. And then the chills set in, tingling underneath his skin and spreading a new numbness through him. The Prince was already on the ground, with a horrible hole cratered on his chest plate. He wasn't getting up, he wasn't _**moving**_.

The world went silent for a split second.

As the Crown Prince or as the Lord of Storm's End, Rhaegar and the Storm Lord must be used to commanding the attention of everyone around them; squires, servants, bannermen – all serving at their beck and call. In the great equalizer of the battlefield, however, each fighting man's world is reduced to just the opponent before them, as their survival hinged on defeating the imminent danger. _No one is concerned for their Prince or liege's safety, when they are themselves inches from death._

And Aerion needed exactly that, for no one to panic. To contain what happened and keep the battle _**going**_ **.**

His entire approaching retinue witnessed the affair, so did the immediate circle of soldiers and knights who were watching in awe. But beyond them, the melee combat raged on.

Robert Baratheon was himself in disbelief. He kicked his mount towards the fallen Prince and stared down.

 _Thirty yards now._ Aerion yelled at the top of his lungs just as the stunned Storm Lord opened his mouth, "FIRE AND BLOOD!"

" **FIRE AND BLOOD!** " Thundering hoofbeats and the charge of cavalry forced the ensembled Baratheon retinue, now only a loose line of men, to look ahead.

The Storm Lord's personal guard pulled at his liege's horse for him. _They will be trampled by frenzied horses, if they don't dive out of the way._

Aerion's sword met a rider's chainmail as the soldier tried to stir his horse. The blade made a clean cut over the shoulder and across the neck. Lord Rambton smashed into another horseman and threw the soldier from their horse. Another guard slashed at him, but he easily blocked and grabbed the soldier's head. Aerion heard the cracking of bones that accompanied Lord Rambton's decisive twist and snap.

"Retreat! Retreat!" A knight in Buckler colours called. His liege lord was still dazed, and was half being pulled away by his guards. More Stonedance horsemen took over the area that hosted the duel, and Stormlands and Northern blazons fell around Aerion.

"Pursue them!" Baratheon soldiers huddled close to the Storm Lord and was leading him back into their camp. Not only that the riders were outnumbered by Stonedance cavalry, but the whole rebel frontlines in the centerfield were breaking loose to Crownlands banners.

"CHARGE!" Lord Rambton didn't need anything else from Aerion. He hollered to push their men on and raised his sword high in the air. They stirred up dust and sand that made Aerion's nose wrinkle.

A young soldier was sobbing by Prince Rhaegar. Aerion winced and jumped off his horse. His hands trembled when he tried to fist them.

There was no need to check for Rhaegar's breathing or heartbeat, not with the unmasked weeping before him. Besides, judging by the size of the hole in the Prince's armour, his ribs probably collapsed inwards. The soldier looked up to Aerion at his kneeling position and revealed puffed eyes and tears down his cheeks.

Aerion's face was stone. He looked around for what to do.

 _ **SEVEN BURNING HELLS.**_ _He never should have left Rhaegar's side._ He was a _**fool**_ , to obey Rhaegar's cursed battle plans. _Dorne could have held the right field without him_.

"Step back," Aerion choked out the words when he returned to the closed-eyed Crown Prince, lying on his back. The soldier fumbled to stand up, and Aerion realized he was Myles Mooton.

As the teary squire watched, Aerion spread an abandoned Targaryen standard over Rhaegar, covering his silver hair and chest. He pulled another half-torn Stark banner from his arm and covered another layer, more crooked to the side to imitate other half covered bodies on the battlefield.

Aerion looked around and was satisfied that the melee continued on as usual. The circle who watched the duel have dispersed, and a few dozen hysterical men can't stir tens of thousands of fighters to lay down their arms. He also hasn't heard Robert Baratheon use his booming voice to announce Rhaegar's death, yet, and the longer he is occupied, the better.

"WHAT ARE YOU-" Ser Barristan Selmy has an ugly cut on his face, and was storming towards Aerion and the blanketed banners behind him.

Aerion clenched his jaw and met the missing Kingsguard head on, pushing the knight back. Ser Barristan widened his eyes, as he wasn't expecting Aerion to intercept him by force.

"He's gone." The words came easier than Aerion expected. He breathed quietly and held Ser Barristan's upper arms in place.

"HE – I –" Ser Barristan tried to push past Aerion. The Kingsguard's eyes were blood-shot red. "I NEED TO –"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Aerion pushed back, "This battle, this battle _**must go on**_. We can get all of them, to _**avenge**_ him. We are _**winning**_."

Masses of infantry wearing sigils of the Reach charged past where they were standing, oblivious to what was hidden under the dirty Stark and Targaryen banners. Ahead of them, Crownlands soldiers are pressing further inland. To their left and right, Martell and Lannister banners merged with the centerfield, suggesting all three frontlines are driving the rebels back.

Not feeling resistance from the still-shocked Kingsguard, Aerion climbed back onto his destrier. "Mooton!" he called to the young soldier, who looked more alert than before.

"Stay here with him. No one touches the banners, you hear me?" Aerion made sure every word sank in.

Myles Mooton nodded dutifully, and clutched tightly on the grip of his sword.

"If anyone tries, _**kill them**_." Aerion turned his horse towards the enemy lines. "That's on my orders."

"A-Aye, my lord."

"I'll ride with you." Ser Barristan seemed to have somewhat gathered his senses. He found another deserted destrier, ripped off the white fabrics of House Stark's sigil, and climbed on.

Aerion nodded and breathed a small sigh of relief. They need to annihilate the rebellion's main forces _now,_ for they won't have another chance. They started slowly at first, as he kept an eye on Ser Barristan in case the Kingsguard decided to rush back and attract dangerous attention.

Aerion relaxed a little more when they reached closer to the fighting than where they left Myles. The colourful standards from both sides of the ford have congregated by the last of the rebel's defences, just with much fewer copies of each flag than before.

 _This is their reserve._ Aerion crashed into a line of swordsmen and realized that he was cutting into the leaping trout of House Tully. His blade forced through the chainmail of the first soldier and lodged deep in the young soldier's heart.


	16. Between Chaos and Order

**Author's Note:**

Thank you all so much for following the story and leaving kind comments! I know the last cliff was bigger than the others (sorry!), so this chapter ends calmly :) 

This chapter also turned out longer than I estimated, so it took a little longer to post. I hope you enjoy it! 

* * *

**Chapter 16: Between Chaos and Order**

_**Castle Darry, Riverlands, 283 AC** _

The heavy oak door squeaked open to a dim and stuffy bedchamber. There was only one boxed window letting sunlight into the room, and it was high up on the stone wall that one would have to stand on their toes to peek through.

The room held little other than a bed and an armchair. A covered chamber pot sat in one corner, and a small stack of bound tomes laid on the floor.

Aerion raised an eyebrow as he made out the title of the first edition. _History of the Great Riverlands._ He took a deeper breath and almost coughed from the thick dust that had settled in the room.

Guards behind Aerion and Lord Rambton carried in another chair. Lord Rambton scanned the room, sneered, and opted to stand next to Aerion. His hand never left the pommel of his sheathed sword.

The older man sitting on his bed did not look like a prisoner. Sure, he was thinner after these few days, but he donned his grey cotton shirt as proudly as his full armour from the Trident. After they have arranged him in this room, he had even requested better meals and volumes from House Darry's library to pass the time.

Lord Hoster Tully stared intensely at his two visitors with his piercing blue eyes. He was leaning against the headboard and held another book in his hand.

"Ahh…trying again, aren't we?" The Lord Paramount of the Trident mocked gruffly, "With a _blood of the dragon_." He snickered and set his book down.

Aerion sat across from the older lord. His right shoulder and upper arm cried out when he knocked into the back of his chair and accidentally pulled on his gash wound.

The room fell silent after the guards shut the door behind Aerion and Lord Rambton.

"I've made my position more than clear." Hoster's eyes landed on Aerion, "Riverrun stands with Lord Robert Baratheon and his allies – we will never be _**turncloaks**_." He spat the last word with utter disgust.

Aerion watched the older lord plainly. Lord Rambton snorted, "Empty words are all you've got. You seriously think your soft child of an heir would hold Riverrun for long? We are a week's ride away from bringing you your precious son's head, Tully!"

Hoster Tully threw his head back and laughed hard, "My castle's record of enduring a siege is more than eight hundred days. You are my guest to challenge it."

Lord Rambton clenched his jaw. He held his insult and waited for Aerion to speak.

When the Lord of Riverrun gathered himself, Aerion said simply, "Surrender for the Riverlands, Lord Tully. There is no recovering from the Trident."

Hoster Tully leaned forward from the headboard and smiled curiously, "On the contrary, my lord Aerion, _**you**_ are the one who will not recover from the Trident." Hoster held an odd gleam in his eyes.

Aerion tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair at the reply. Their eyes locked and Aerion found himself in a strange staring match.

"Are you _**mad**_ , you old trout?!" Lord Rambton exclaimed, "Your soldiers ran in retreat. We took _**two thousand men**_ captive. The Stark and Baratheon scums are fugitives, and that old goat Arryn almost got trampled by his own guards!"

"Armies can be rebuilt." Hoster shrugged, "My fellow allies are alive and well, whereas you've only got one Prince – the one who got himself _**killed**_."

Aerion didn't need another reminder. He sat still, determined not to give the stubborn lord the satisfaction of stirring him.

"Tully! I should remind you that our forces have always been serving his grace the King, who still sits in the capital. We also have Prince Aegon and Prince Viserys, heirs to the great Targaryen dynasty!"

Hoster Tully turned his head towards Lord Rambton. "Spoken like a true Crownlands lapdog. blind loyalty will be the death of you, mark my words."

Lord Rambton looked ready to pounce on their captive, so Aerion cut in. "Surrender, or your bannermen's blood is on your hands. Lord Vance and Ser Roote have been begging for mercy in the courtyard. I'm sure you've heard their screams from this chamber."

"What cowards they are!" Hoster huffed, "Give me a sword and I'll finish them myself. They stain the name of rivermen."

"Lord Tully, let us be sensible." Aerion frowned, "Your two goodsons are left with four thousand infantry between them. Robert Baratheon holds another thousand, at most. The Crown outnumbers them three-fold!"

"Surrender and bring peace to your people. Be remembered as a peace-maker, and not a warmonger." Aerion was disappointed to see the Lord of Riverrun unmoved.

"Do not take me for a fool, Aerion. I know Lord Frey added another three thousand seasoned men to my goodsons." Hoster Tully narrowed his eyes, "Besides, your army will fall apart any minute, so don't try to intimidate me with numbers."

Aerion clenched and released his fist. Hoster Tully is not supposed to hear any news of the outside world.

"Who told you that the Freys left the Twins, Tully?!" Lord Rambton snorted, "Getting delusional the longer you're kept here, are you?"

"When your House has ruled over a land for a thousand years, even the wind sings to you." Lord Tully murmured, "Something you wouldn't understand, I suppose."

"I don't have time to waste with you, Hoster." Aerion said sharply, "The Crown is willing to overlook some of your offences, if you declare the Riverlands for the Iron Throne. If you intend to be difficult, then you will face much more severe consequences, I assure you."

"I would rather take my chances." Lord Tully replied lazily, "You are right about wasting time, my lord Aerion. I am surprised that you came to see me … when you should be concerned for your own future."

"Are you hearing yourself? What are you _**saying**_?" Lord Rambton's armour plates rattled when he stepped closer to tower over the Lord of Riverrun.

Hoster Tully ignored Lord Rambton's provocation. "King's Landing, my lord Aerion. I would be riding day and night for a chance to explain why the Prince perished before my eyes. I would beg for an exile to Essos – more preferable to a public execution or the Wall, in my humble opinion."

"You are truly mad!" Lord Rambton shook his head vehemently. "Lord Aerion rode bravely to rescue his grace. It was the Baratheon traitor who murdered his own Prince."

Lord Tully again ignored Lord Rambton, and cocked his head at the seated Aerion, "Have a guard update me, when mad Aerys passes your sentence. I am dying to hear whether you will go like the late Lord Rickard Stark, or if you will face the rack, like the Darklyn retinue after what happened at Duskendale."

"This is your last chance. Surrender now, or you forfeit your bannermen, your castle, and the future of your House in young Edmure." Aerion could not let Lord Tully lead the conversation away, "My House is not one to feel merciful in vengeance, as I'm sure you know."

"Your House is nothing without your _precious_ Crown Prince." Lord Tully scoffed, "The future of the realm is in our hands now. Young Lord Baratheon and Lord Stark have it in them to build something new, something better, for the time of dragons is behind us."

"It is truly regretful that you would subject your people to more suffering, when the Crown has been willing to negotiate in good faith." Aerion stood and spoke flatly. He straightened his robes.

"I take pity on you, truly, for what lies ahead for you." Lord Hoster chuckled, "To hide the Prince's injuries, to charge on without even _**trying**_ to save the Crown Prince's life – I wish I could watch you justify that to your King."

Someone knocked on the door behind them. A muffled voice travelled through the door, "They are almost ready, my lords!"

Aerion raised an eyebrow at Lord Tully's smug smile. He turned without another word and made way to open the door.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself, having ruined House Tully's legacy with your stupidity." Lord Rambton glared at the Riverlands lord and followed Aerion to the hallway.

The heavy door squeezed shut once again. The ten soldiers who stood on guard kept their eyes straight ahead.

Aerion and Lord Rambton started down the spiral staircase of the five-story tower. The guard who came to call them was ten paces in the lead.

"My lord, King's Landing will not be unreasonable like that. The nobles at the Trident all know there was nothing we can do for his grace. Ser Barristan has been willing to vouch for our side, too." Lord Rambton assured Aerion softly.

"I am not worried about what Lord Tully said, don't worry." Aerion appreciated Lord Rambton's gesture. His bannerman may appear rough and crude, but you can count on him for more sensitive affairs just the same.

"I am more interested in how Hoster learned about the Freys. We've only known since yesterday after our scouts got back."

"It is House Darry's castle, after all." Lord Rambton suggested wearily, "Maybe the Riverlands Houses are too sympathetic to their liege lord for good."

Aerion considered the point but slowly shook his head, "I don't doubt House Darry's loyalty. Maybe a servant here and a guard there are troubled by the fact that we are holding their Lord Paramount, but House Darry has always fought honourably for the Iron Throne."

"Should we change the guards? We specifically picked Crownlands guards for utmost discretion."

Aerion thought for a second, "Who else uses this tower?"

"Lord Marbrand's quarters are on the third floor. And I think Ser Dick Crabb uses a few chambers on the second, for his recovery."

Ser Crabb only has a minor injury on the leg, so it should be fine. "Kindly ask Lord Marbrand and House Crabb to move to the south tower, then. Banning wanderers around here should limit Lord Tully's eyes and ears."

"Very good, my lord. I'll let Raymun Darry know, and I'll ask both Houses after the ceremony and meeting."

Aerion nodded. They met a bright corridor leading to the open space of the castle courtyard at the bottom of the stairs. Noblemen and servants alike rushed around to get their retinue and themselves in position. They were all expected in the clearing outside, _everyone who was well enough to stand for a few hours, at least._

Guard hounds barked loudly as Aerion and Lord Rambton crossed the square courtyard. Lord Karyl Vance of Wayfarer's Rest was tied with his back to a pole, and Ser Roote was tied to another. Both had calmed down since they've threatened to execute the Riverlands lords as part of the ceremony, though their dried tear tracks are still exposed for any passerby to tease.

The dogs' howls echoing off the walls annoyed Aerion. _They can smell the death and dread, can they sense the fear and despair in men, too?_ He sped up his pace and passed the wide-open gates of the keep. In the flat clearing before them, even piles of firewood waited in a neat formation.

Guards and servants wheeled wagons to and from each pyre, carrying pre-built wooden cots to sit at the top of the logs and branches.

Lord Renfred Rykker seemed to be directing the operation. The young lord had fought valiantly at the Trident, and only received a slight bruise from a dent in his armour. He had emerged from the battle with fifteen hundred bannermen, when the majority of Houses only escaped with a few hundred soldiers.

The Lord of Duskendale no doubt felt his influence grow since the battle. People bowed to military power quicker than anything else, and this principle has never been more evident since the Trident.

Stonedance was with the majority of the Houses. Six hundred and twelve, to be exact. Aerion had brought more than two thousand men from Massey's Hook, and now the most he could hope for is to bring a fraction of that number home. _His grandfather and father had spent decades building and training their garrison, and it only took one day for him to undo their legacy._

He should have steered Rhaegar away from the Trident. He had wanted to end the war sooner and had fallen for the bait of capturing all four rebel leaders at once. Rhaegar was unmistakably overtaken by the thought of defeating Lyanna Stark's former betrothed, and yet, Aerion neglected to remind the Prince of the consequences of recklessness.

"Lord Aerion, how did it go?" Renfred had a warm smile when Aerion walked near.

Aerion stood by Lord Rykker and watched the activities in the clearing. "Lord Tully declined our offer, unfortunately."

"Hmmm. We are starting soon, shall I send for the River lords?"

Aerion gave a wry smile and shook his head, "It was a bluff anyway. They are no use to us dead."

Lord Rykker nodded in understanding, "I'll get the guards to return them to their cells. But not before the ceremony is done. I want to keep them in suspense a while longer for their incessant snivelling."

"Of course." A small smile tugged at Aerion's lips. "Will Lorent be coming down?"

"I don't think so. His leg is too shaky to stand, and he didn't want to ruin the solemnity with a fall." Lorent's goodbrother sighed, "He asked if you would lay the standard for Ser Dillon, since you knew him better. I could do it if you will be busy."

Ser Dillon was a landed knight sworn to House Grandison. Aerion remembers the slender knight from his visits to Grandview and their time at Sow's Horn. The Ser barely survived the battle and had passed when they reached Castle Darry.

"I can do it." Aerion felt the familiar dullness in his chest that had settled within him since leaving the wretched ford. He watched a handful of guards push a bier to a halt by a pyre. On the count of three, the guards unloaded a body wrapped in a Florent blazon and placed it carefully onto the cot.

"Great! My guard there has the Grandison standard; he'll go to you when it's time."

Aerion nodded and saw the soldier who Lord Rykker was pointing to. More noblemen and their retinue entered the clearing from the castle. No one conversed too loudly or poked fun, and was decidedly mindful to the mood of the occasion.

_So many dead, so very many._ They could not hope to identify and claim every fallen soldier and lord on the Trident. They also had to find a stronghold to treat the wounded and make sense of _**what happened**_. Already at the scene, lords and knights wanted to take their men and march home, or if not home, at least King's Landing.

House Tully's reserve had fought to the last man to hold off their advancement; the soldiers were exceptionally resolute, with their liege lord staying behind with them. Lord Hoster's sacrifice to hold off the Crown's army galvanized retreating fighters to stand their ground, which escalated the barbarity of the battle at the very end.

When the Iron Throne's forces met them, the boldness of the men who had decided to seal their fate prevailed. The frontline Crownlands and Lannister legions accepted a heavy loss in troops, and even more loss in time, to cut through the defence.

Ser Barristan had his sword at Lord Hoster Tully's neck before the Lord of Riverrun finally yielded. Aerion had watched blankly, out of breath, as Lord Rambton and Lord Tarly led their remaining cavalrymen, whatever House they are from, in pursuit of the rebel lords who had long fled.

Whether time passed quick or slow, Aerion could not remember. Horses screamed louder than men in agony. From the shallow ford and across the northern shores, survivors fought against crows to save their wounded and give their dead a proper burial.

The voices of the dead and dying were soft and terrible, and they came from beneath the standards of brown direwolves, dead flowers, charcoal dragons, and pale ghostly stags.

_Bury only_ _ **their**_ _men_ , Ser Kevan had suggested. They didn't have the manpower to tend all the dead. They would take the ones still alive as prisoner, and then allow the other side to claim their dead after they clear out. _Some rules, like the customs of war, are not to be broken._

Myles was exactly where Aerion left him. When Aerion got there, Lord Mace Tyrell was already kneeling in his bright and unscathed armour. Around him, surviving commanders whispered amongst themselves.

With trembling hands, the Lord of Highgarden had pulled away the discarded flags that hid the pale Crown Prince. The noblemen's reactions were predictable, as the crowd gasped and leaned in with widened eyes. The more Aerion stared at Rhaegar's peaceful appearance, the more guilt threatened to engulf Aerion's consciousness.

Prince Oberyn knelt then, too, and unstrapped Prince Rhaegar's armour. He pressed his ear to the chest and listened. Aerion had held his breath like everyone else in anticipation.

Slowly, the Dornish Prince shook his head. There was no blood on Rhaegar's underclothes, so half of the crowd still called to take the Prince to a Maester, or even a sorcerer.

It wasn't long until _**what happened**_ was pieced together. There was a small pause, before the question of _**what they should do**_ took over. In a heated argument, surviving noblemen almost jumped on their brother in arms to get their way.

Aerion observed, quietly, those who held their tongue, those who wanted to chase after the Storm Lord with all they have, and the ones opting to wait for a royal decree.

Aerion only spoke when everyone was finished. Castle Darry was the obvious middle voice was steady, and he imitated Rhaegar's most decisive tone. He could not watch his fellow noblemen turn their victory into a loss. _Rhaegar's death would truly mean nothing, in that case._

Castle Darry would give them a strong presence by the Trident, it was close for treating the wounded, and the castle is naturally a better stronghold than a camp. Aerion bent down and picked up Rhaegar's helmet, which still had its silver dragon's wings intact on the sides. He hugged it to his chest and hoped it would help him channel some of the Crown Prince's authority.

Ser Kevan was the first to voice support for Aerion's proposal. Addressing the dead and wounded is the first priority, and a place to wait for the Red Keep's orders was the second. He admitted that Castle Darry would achieve both better than any other option.

Ser Barristan agreed after that. The Kingsguard called for a stretcher to carry the Prince and collected Rhaegar's belongings, including parts of armour and the discarded longsword. He allowed Aerion to keep the Prince's helm but eyed Aerion peculiarly when he walked away.

The noblemen deserved better than a shallow grave, they said. While foot soldiers and levies were carried by arm and leg to freshly-dug graves, the Crown's bannermen were identified by the sigil engravings on their armour and carried onto stretchers.

It was an odd sight, with a large field of bodies on stretchers, lying next to hundreds of shared pits to be backfilled; the pits that were waiting for the tens of thousands of the disfigured dead and each of their pitiful stories to be buried by dirt and mud. Not every newly dead deserves to be led by the Stranger, nor do they deserve prayers, as it seems.

Aerion had found Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard impaled by a spear in his chest. He had a trickle of blood at his lips and Aerion could not get his eyes to stay shut. Aerion tried again and again, until someone pulled him away from his obsession.

_Stay with the Crown Prince_ , different voices seemed to whisper in his ear. _He didn't_ _ **want to**_ , he wanted to say, if the words were not caught in his throat. The dream to revive the Targaryen dynasty died on the Trident that day. Aerion could not discern if he was more disappointed with Rhaegar or with himself.

Their two days at Castle Darry had passed faster than Aerion realized. Fitting all their men and prisoners into the smaller castle, counting their surviving soldiers and supplies, sending word to King's Landing and each noble holding… he had barely slept since the battle, but oddly he did not feel tired.

Across the castle and clearing, a low bell began to toll. Slow and mournful, the ringing pulled Aerion back to the scene before him. Lord Rykker was conversing quietly with their host, Raymun Darry, the youngest and only surviving son of his lord father. Lord Rambton was already in position, as are most of the nobles who have gathered to pay their respects.

"Lord Aerion." It was a greeting and a call. Ser Barristan wore a fresh white cloak of the Kingsguard, and the scar on his face had healed to a pink line. Despite appearances, Aerion knew that the mentor to the Crown Prince has been hopelessly drowning in guilt and grief.

Aerion nodded and followed Ser Barristan. Through the neat formation of pyres, they had placed Rhaegar atop the tallest heap at the very center. It was Targaryen tradition to cremate the dead, and thus all the fallen nobles had to conform with their Prince.

Rhaegar was dressed in gilded armour, as his night-black armour was cratered beyond repair. His cloak was beneath him, though most of the three-headed dragon was covered up with only the black field spilling off from the edges of his cot.

On Rhaegar's chest they placed a painted wooden sword and had curled his pale fingers about the hilt. Rhaegar's other hand clutched a small direwolf trinket, though no one would have any idea when they looked at the Prince. _Rhaegar adored the gifted charm from Lady Lyanna_ , Ser Barristan had explained to Aerion, so it was only right to have it accompany him.

Aerion stood still at Rhaegar's left shoulder and faced Prince Oberyn, in the place of kin to the deceased. At the Crown Prince's feet, Lord Mace Tyrell and Ser Barristan represented the highest-ranking lord present, and the Kingsguard brotherhood.

The Prince still looked peaceful, and overall unchanged since that fateful day. What the silent sisters did to paint his face and keep his skin soft, Aerion would never know. The Prince before him looked undisturbed in his slumber, like he was finally free from the worries of this world.

_Why didn't Rhaegar look more angry, more afraid?_ Aerion almost wished Rhaegar would show a pained or horrified face; at least that would indicate some sort of regret for leaving his wife and children, for leaving his King and realm, for leaving _him_ , before his time.

The septon at Castle Darry led the devotion. The poor old man rubbed his palms repeatedly on his white robes and his seven-stranded belt, probably having never dreamt of leading the vigil for a Crown Prince. Ser Olyvar Oakheart had ridden out to the surrounding villages and scoured six silent sisters and two more septas, so the ceremony wouldn't look too modest as to injure the Prince's honour.

The clearing grew still before the devout made a circuit around the Prince's pyre, worshipping at seven different directions for the seven faces of God. In every direction they made a silent prayer and sang a hymn. They sang for mercy and forgiveness, for the living and for the dead, for the peace of the realm and the legacy of the passed heir to the Iron Throne.

Ser Barristan produced a full-sized Targaryen standard and invited the other lords around him. Aerion took one corner and helped spread out the exquisitely embroidered piece. At the end of the devouts' hymns, the four nobles laid the standard over the resting Prince, like a light blanket that hid his rigid armour. A cloak that ran so smoothly that had no wrinkles, Aerion noted.

The septon resumed his prayers at the Prince's head. He called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and virtuous King. He called upon the Smith to lend strength to their soldiers' swords and shields, the Warrior to give them courage, and the Father to defend their noble cause.

_**As if they ever had a noble cause.**_ Everything stemmed from the cruelty of a tyrant and the _lust_ of one man – and masses of smallfolk and fine warriors have paid the price with their lives.

It was time for their last goodbyes. Lord Mace Tyrell babbled about how the Prince would have made a fine King, and how loved he was by all. Ser Barristan closed his eyes and kept his last words to the Prince to himself. Aerion was curious to see Prince Oberyn looking as angry as he was, except the Dornishman had the privilege of showing his irritation publicly.

Aerion stared down at the Prince one last time. _Open your eyes and look at the mess you made, Rhaegar_. He had no words to say. _You will leave Aegon and his Visenya and Rheanys like this? You will leave your Kingdom on the path to ruin?_ Aerion might be imagining it, but the curl at the Prince's lips looked like a ghost of a smile.

The mournful bells rang again. Aerion dipped his head with the others.

_**Fine.**_ _Rest easy._ I'll make sure Aegon knows you better than a name. I'll make sure Robert Baratheon joins you on the other side soon enough.

Ser Barristan's sole responsibility was to see to the Prince, but the three other lords all had other standards to lay, to honour their bannermen who also lost their lives. Lesser nobles and knights scattered around the field too, by the side of their fallen kin and bannermen. _No one had emerged untouched by the Trident._

Aerion was led by a soldier in Stonedance colours. They stopped after just a few strides and the guard held out the appropriate banner. Lord Sunglass, Prince Rhaegar's vassal who generously aided Stonedance at the very beginning of the war, had been found with his throat slit. Aerion suppressed a deep sigh and gently laid the Sunglass seven golden stars banner on the passed lord.

The next pyre carried Lord Hayford, the vigilant lord who was weary of Ser Boros back in Sow's Horn. He and his bannerman, Lord Hogg, were gracious hosts to their army and had worked tirelessly to manage the entire camp. Now they were both gone. Whatever fear Lord Hayford showed for the Red Keep, he did not betray any towards the rebels on the Trident.

Aerion heard that Lord Hayford slew two enemy knights with an arrow in his back, and almost brought a third down with him. He was an unfortunate loss, being the last of his House. Though, there were rumours that he left a young bastard son that he had hoped to legitimize after he aided the Crown in the war. Aerion carefully laid the standard of green fretty over gold over Lord Hayford's chest and legs.

Another pyre meant another fallen lord or knight. Aerion had to admit that he could not come up with the name of the next standard's owner – some newly created knight sworn to Prince Rhaegar, most likely. His guard handed him the dark blue standard, and Aerion gently brought the banner up to the dead man's chin. Aerion noticed that the knight's collar was folded in, so he straightened it before turning away.

Lord Rykker's soldier found him then. Aerion saw the familiar face of Ser Dillon as he stepped by the heap and repeated the same action with previous standards. The majestic black lion of House Grandison slept at the man's chest. There was a bone-deep cut on the Ser's forehead, something even the silent sisters could not hide, Aerion thought grimly.

He had two more standards to lay, and he dreaded each step that brought him closer to reality. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the mud ground, before looking up to his bannerman who lied on the narrow cot. Lord Celyn Bywater was one of his own; the knot in his stomach turned achingly as Aerion spread the Bywater blazon on Lord Celyn's body.

The head of the Bywater House is now a young girl of five. When Aerion wrote the letter to be sent back with the ashes of Lord Celyn, he had found himself at a loss for words. His bannermen and soldiers were his responsibility, _and now he stood in the clearing whilst most of the men who came north with him did not._

Memories of Lord Celyn and the men he had lost played in his mind, but he could see that the other lords have mostly finished. Prince Oberyn had maybe another one or two left, while Lord Tyrell had returned to the crowd that stood across from all the funeral pyres.

Aerion sighed and started towards the last pyre. The one farthest from the Prince but closest to the gathered crowded of attendees.

He took over the last standard from his guard's arms. It was Aerion's own banner, a three-headed dragon on black, with red, yellow, and orange heads of the dragon breathing golden flames. He stepped up to the heap and forced himself to look at Ser Grant's face.

His ever-present captain of the guards, someone who had been at Stonedance for as long as Aerion could remember. _He will have no one to turn to, no one from home._ Aerion bit down on his lip and covered the standard on his dear companion and friend.

Ser Grant looked almost as peaceful as Rhaegar, for which Aerion is glad. _Maybe it wasn't painful._ Aerion could not even avenge him, not properly, as no one could tell him what happened to the knight after the Dornish infantry met House Royce's forces.

_Thank you, for everything._ He patted on Ser Grant's shoulder plate; the armour was icy cold to his touch. The rebellion struggles on, so their war struggles on.

It was perversely amusing that the rebel lords were probably doing the same thing at this moment, as their scouts have spotted Stormlands and Northern banners making their way back to the Trident battlefield.

The septon led the septas in another hymn by the Crown Prince. The crowd that gathered was too far to make out any of their words. When they finished, soldiers carried torches and stationed one man to each pyre. Ser Barristan held a torch too, for his Prince.

Soon, black columns of smoke rose from the pyres of the dead. There was no sound in the world, other than the crackling from the fires and the slight breeze that carried the smoke to the skies. They were standing at least thirty yards from the first row of heaps, but they could still feel the intense heat of the flames.

The first few hours passed quietly, with only murmurs of comments and dry replies among the noblemen. Comments about how heroic some of the men were, about how much the dead will be missed, and about the tragedy of the Prince's death.

More time passed and some of the small pyres collapsed down. It was good news that they still haven't been disturbed by the watchers on the castle tower of approaching foes.

"The smallfolk are calling it the Ruby Ford, after the Prince's armour." Lord Rykker murmured by Aerion.

"But we retrieved all the rubies. The King and Queen might want to see the full armour."

Lord Rykker shrugged, "I guess the full story rarely gets told; just the parts people want to hear."

"Hmmm." Aerion watched the fumes of the first burnt-out pyre get extinguished. "How are we returning the ashes?"

"The Prince and Ser Oswell's will leave first light in the morrow, for the Red Keep. Then the closer Houses will be delivered, and then the farther holdings in the Reach and in Dorne."

"Right." Dragonstone will get nothing, save for some news on parchment. The Princess will have to travel to King's Landing to say her goodbyes, and bring the infant children with her.

"Will you push for another battle to finish off the rebels? For the meeting today?"

Aerion donned a slight frown and shook his head, "I wish we could strike soon, before the rebels regroup. But I don't think we are ready."

Many of their soldiers and commanders were still recovering. Lord Randyll Tarly was unconscious for two days after Robert Baratheon struck him on his head when their pursuing forces got close. Lord Rambton and Lord Tarly's men were forced to turn back when there was little chance of apprehending the rebel lords.

One of Ser Kevan's Lannisport cousins, who had been a trusted advisor in the Westerlands legion, was also bed-ridden. The young lad had great potential, Aerion had heard, but has now been crippled for life.

His squire also took a deep slash wound to the chest that thankfully did not cut through anything important. Terrence's older brother, Clement Celtigar, was thrown off his horse and suffered a severely bruised back. Their own injuries were hardly on the brothers' mind, as they spent the last two days tending to their dying lord father, whose arrow wound had festered.

Still, overshadowing each noble House's private struggles was the deeply divisive issue of what they should do. _Lord Hoster was right_ , if the Small Council and the King cannot react swiftly to give their army a common purpose, they will be four armies instead of one.

Prince Oberyn was also still making up his mind for Dorne. Aerion was glad to hear that Prince Lewyn was safe, though it will be some time before the Kingsguard can wield his sword considering his broken arm. Intriguingly, helping to save his uncle did not make Prince Oberyn more agreeable.

_Tell me where the whore is and I'll stay to fight this rebellion_ , Prince Oberyn had demanded in private. As much as Aerion needed Prince Oberyn's support, he could not speak a word of Lyanna Stark's location. The child in her womb is Rhaegar's blood, so he would protect him or her with all his heart.

"That's my feeling exactly." Lord Rykker's voice was hushed but firm. "The longer we wait, the longer the rebels have to gather a Riverlands army. Lord Stark could still call men from the North; if he does, that army will arrive faster than our reinforcement from the Reach."

Aerion rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I know, but we are not ready. We need a clear order from the Red Keep to put out the bickering, to install a legitimate commander."

Lord Rykker countered, "Our best opportunity to strike will be gone by then. The Seven knows how long the Red Keep will take!"

One week for messengers to reach King's Landing, a few days or a week for deliberations, and then another week to return. That was the cost of not trusting the message to ravens. No noblemen at Castle Darry had announced that they would abandon the war, but it has only been two days into their wait.

"It's out of our hands now." Aerion watched a guard extinguish another pyre. "Our task is to keep the full army here, or we will be yielding the Riverlands for nothing."

"Surely the King knows that we have not a moment to lose! We must attack at their weakest!"

Aerion rubbed his temples. The King will be enraged above all else to hear about the Crown Prince. If they are lucky, King Aerys II would call for unforgiving revenge on the rebels, effectively giving them the command they need to ride out.

If the King chooses to dwell on the circumstances of his heir's death, however, Aerion and anyone who witnessed the Prince's duel might receive a summons to appear at court. A summons that he must answer, that pulls him away from the frontline. He will then be before a King who loathed betrayal but at the same time prone to the persuasion of conspiracy.

_Whatever the Red Keep decides, they needed a royal decree._ A royal decree would reassure them that the Crown still had a war strategy; it would remind the nobles that they still answered to the Iron Throne.

Aerion was lost in his thoughts and did not answer Lord Rykker. The Lord of Duskendale sighed and kicked frustratingly at the dirt.

* * *

Raymund Darry managed to find singers for their feast. It was also far from a feast, for they still ate army rations, just with more grilled meats and ale. At least the ale was in good supply, and even the gaolers and cooks got a cup as part of the celebration.

What the dinner was meant to do – and did do – was to cheer up the crowd and offer some escape from their miserable war. Hosted to welcome House Mooton to Castle Darry, the feast was also the first occasion where the battle of the Trident did not dominate the conversation.

Aerion had stood at the keep gates to greet the Mooton siblings with everyone else. Maidenpool's open declaration for the Crown was a much-needed boost of morale for their troops, and their carriage upon carriages of fresh supplies dispelled doubts about how long their army could afford to hold up in the Riverlands.

Upon their arrival, Ser Barristan personally directed servants to hang the Mooton standard on the keep's curtain walls, somewhere Lord Tully can certainly see, while Aerion had turned to Raymund to arrange their feast.

There was an emotional reunion between Myles Mooton and his siblings, followed by heartfelt condolences and an apology from Lord William for his House joining the war so late. Since it was unfitting to blame someone who is trying to be helpful, the crowd quickly forgave the Lord of Maidenpool. _Indeed,_ _seeing their numbers and supplies strengthen did wonders to lighten the mood._

House Mooton brought three thousand fresh troops and two thousand horses, which was on par with the Westerlands and the Dornish surviving legions, but fewer than the Reach's five thousand remaining soldiers. The Crownlands now held the least number of men, totalling just twenty-two hundred, as the bulk of their forces fought against the rebel's main forces with the Crown Prince.

Lord William also assured the crowd that his trade ships have secured more grain and textiles from Essos, and that he had left men to transport everything to Castle Darry as soon as they arrive in port. He readily admitted that his House was indebted to the Crown when his seat was surrounded, so supporting the Iron Throne was the natural course of action.

His initiative was well-received by the crowd, after a week of depressing circumstances. It even brought a small smile to Ser Barristan's lips.

Aerion was glad to see House Mooton at Castle Darry, but it was a true struggle to appear cheerful for the feast. For one, the rebels had headed east, opposite to where they were and harder for them to reach. Their scouts were travelling farther and farther to sight them, and the rebel forces would soon be too far away for them to track in any meaningful manner. Secondly, Lady Lyanna –

"Wouldn't you say so, Lord Aerion?"

It was Lord Mace Tyrell's voice, so Aerion looked up from his plate and to his left.

"I didn't quite catch that, Lord Tyrell." Aerion was speaking to the Lord of Highgarden with Raymund Darry between them. Across from their host and Lord Tyrell sat the Mooton siblings. Ser Kevan faced Aerion and Aerion's right side was taken up by Prince Oberyn and the Dornish nobles.

Lord Tyrell had a warm smile and spoke through the main hall's music, "Just about the stubbornness of our _guest_ , Lord Tully. That temper of his never helps, does it?"

"Yes, I would agree." Aerion gave a small smile.

"What was that he said about his bannermen? 'I'll finish them off myself'?" Lord Tyrell let out a hearty chuckle, "Very different from how I run Highgarden, for sure."

"Quite different, my lord."

"So, it is wonderful that you are with us," Lord Tyrell turned to the Mootons, "I should bring you to persuade Hoster; maybe he'll take some wise counsel at last."

William Mooton dipped his head slightly in agreement. The nobles laughed and continued their conversations around the table.

Aerion picked up his fork and knife and was determined to eat more than the few bites that he has been able to stomach. He chewed slowly and picked just the right moments to take another bite, with an ear on the conversations around him. Dinner guests accordingly directed their conversation elsewhere, to not disturb him.

_Ser Brune would arrive in the morrow._ The knight had promised to report back to the Crown's army every two weeks and has never failed to arrive exactly on time. Aerion and Ser Barristan had spent a better half of the day discussing what they should send to Lady Lyanna in Dorne.

They had written the letters addressed to the King and Queen, Princess Elia, and even the Small Council, but they had a difficult time drafting the letter for Lady Lyanna.

The worst thing to happen is to disturb Lady Lyanna's pregnancy with the grave news. They had to find an appropriate tone, one that conveyed what happened truthfully and one that instilled calm and reassurance. Reassurance that she and the babe will be safe, that they will honour the Prince's words and support her as Rhaegar's wife and the babe as Rhaegar's trueborn child.

Unable to agree on whether they should share Lyanna's condition with the Red Keep, Aerion and Ser Barristan settled to wait a little longer and hear Lyanna's thoughts. Ser Barristan felt that the mother and unborn child must be moved to Dragonstone or King's Landing immediately, as Rhaegar cannot protect them any longer.

But Aerion believed that the King might not receive Rhaegar's purported _second wife_ warmly at all. It would be more dangerous at court than in Dorne, especially when he and the dignified Kingsguard won't be at the Red Keep to uphold Lady Lyanna's story.

Ser Brune would leave with their letter and another sealed letter from Rhaegar, dated just two days before the Trident. Aerion had wanted to open it and read it, more out of frustration that they could not find a similar letter addressed to Princess Elia than to satisfy his curiosity.

Ser Barristan rightly stopped him and offered to safekeep the letter. _You cannot help a wife fight for a dead man's affections_ , the Kingsguard looked at Aerion oddly and reminded him. _Rhaegar would have wanted the realm to respect them both equally, and that is what they should do._

At the table, Prince Oberyn suddenly stood from his seat and apologized that he would retire early. Aerion downed the last of his drink and stood as well, citing tiredness. He smiled back at the lords who wished him a good night and promptly left the hall.

_Should they send more men south to protect Lady Lyanna and the babe? How long can they keep Ser Brune and Dorne away from the prying eyes of the Red Keep and the Martells?_ A light headache was settling in and Aerion took a deep breath of the chilly night air to clear his mind.

Stalking up the stairs to his wing of the keep, guards in Rambton and Stonedance colours guarded the stairways and the chambers. It was below a noble lord to be arranging his liege's personal guards, but Lord Rambton never complained.

Aerion pushed open his chamber doors with a small sigh; he would need to appoint a new captain of the guards. He should let Lord Rambton get back to his normal duties, so his bannerman needn't tend to him day and night.

Aerion found the draft of the letter for Lady Lyanna on his desk and skimmed through the message. It sounded more formal than a true letter of condolences, but it was the best they could do. Neither Aerion nor Ser Barristan had spoken to Lady Lyanna at length.

Aerion folded the parchment and laid it back on the desk. His desk was messy, with half-done drafts of other letters he had sent out or given up writing. He collected the loose pieces and made his way to the hearth.

The flames danced taller with the added parchment. Aerion stared at the warm light and fire as the sheets melted and disappeared.

Three beats of soft knocking at his door surprised him. He narrowed his eyes and walked across the room to answer.

"My lady?" Aerion tried not to sound too surprised. Lady Vivianna Mooton had a timid smile and was looking anywhere but at his eyes.

"My lord," Vivianna's reply was soft but clear, "I am sorry if I've bothered you." She looked up at him.

"Not at all, did you need me for something?" Aerion smiled politely and allowed the door to fully open. He was impressed that she found her way over, having just arrived at Castle Darry.

"I just wanted to check… Lord Tyrell mentioned that you were injured on the Trident? On your shoulder?" Her voice was more confident but still soft.

Aerion instinctively rolled his shoulder; it was sore, but manageable. "It's nothing, really. I do appreciate your kindness."

She bit on her lip and stepped to the side, "I brought our Maester to see if he could be of help, before he goes down to the soldiers' apartments." A thin and dark-haired man appeared behind Lady Vivianna and dipped his head politely.

"You are too kind, my lady, but I am perfectly alright. The Maester's time could be better spent elsewhere." Aerion reassured her.

"Lord Tyrell told me you would say that, and advised me to insist, my lord." Vivianna smirked, "It won't take long at all, and it will heal a lot faster with the Maester's salve."

Lady Vivianna looked positively determined, and Aerion did not want to wave her off in front of the guards and her Maester. He stepped out of the way to admit his visitors, "If it's not too much trouble. Thank you, my lady, and thank you for taking the time, Maester."

"Please call me Vivianna, my lord." Lady Vivianna looked pleased that the Maester was already reaching for small vials from his pockets. "Or Viv, like my brothers do."

"Then I would ask you to call me by name as well, Vivianna." Aerion smiled back when Vivianna grinned at him, her eyes twinkling against soft candlelight in the room.


End file.
